


Recherché

by Eggburtshamslice



Category: Naruto
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death, Dismemberment, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kakashi is a vampire, Kakashi is cray cray, M/M, Major Character Death(s), Mentions of Violence, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Murderous Kakashi, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Spells & Enchantments, Uchiha Massacre, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 95,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2354606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggburtshamslice/pseuds/Eggburtshamslice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recherche: (French) "something very rare, exotic, or choice, arcane."</p><p>The tale of a ruthless aeon, the undead who feasts upon the living, and of a determined, yet woefully inexperienced demon slayer. They share a hatred older than time, fueled by the need for revenge. Partially inspired by Bram Stoker's Dracula, there will be mentions of violence, blood, gore, the Uchiha massacre revisited, flesh eating and non-con (in later chapters) Set in Konoha during the late 1880s. A veritable clown car of other characters push Kakashi and Iruka down the SLOW path to passions forbidden, which also features a high body count. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Let's get these pesky warnings out of the way first :

Descriptions of **VIOLENCE**

 **GORE** (dismemberment) **  
**

Mentions/descriptions of  **FLESH EATING** (human and animal) **  
**

References to past **SEXUAL ASSAULT/ABUSE**

 **NON-CON** (in later chapters)

Voracious **WEREWOLF like creatures**

  **UCHIHA MASSACRE** revisited

**Minor and MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH(S)**

 

* * *

 

There in the northwest, lush emerald pastures sprinkled with lavender and clover, carpet the gently rolling hills where prize sheep and cattle graze; to the dense forests in the northeast, ancient conifers almost touch the sky amidst their teak, pine, mahogany and cedar brethren.  Temperate climes and fertile soil bring forth choice grains and produce all year-round; from a complex of hothouses in the east, come the rarest medicinal herbs and horticultural specimens in the entire five nation region.  

Long before Japan’s ports were forcibly opened to trade with the West, the lumber and textile mills of Konoha were the largest producers and exporters of dry goods, construction and shipbuilding materials in the Orient.  After the Meiji Restoration’s implementation, however, Konoha would become the first territory in Japan to establish balanced trade protocols with European markets.

Bounded on the east by sparkling aquiline seas, merchant ships daily pull into her ports offloading freight of exotic spices, textile dyes, and raw cotton.  These same ships steam homeward, their cargo holds laden with bales of superfine wool, pallets of top grain leathers, dried herbs, lumber and barrels of aromatic oils.

A center of industry, the hub of domestic and foreign commerce and polestar of mechanization, that was Konoha.  An unsullied blend of the bucolic and the cosmopolitan, a land steeped in the tradition of its ancestors, yet as current and relevant as tomorrow’s newspapers.

The providence of the kami made Konoha and by extension, Fire Country wealthy; the people inhabiting the land made it rich beyond measure.  Whether dwelling in stately manor homes in the west, lowly row houses in the northeast, or humble bungalows scattered throughout the territory, there was a sense of community and dignity which bound them together.

Fire Country … a land favored by the gods.

Konoha … the crown jewel in the kami’s chest of treasures,

at least it was… until seven months ago.

Years ahead of its time in matters social and political, it was the first territory ever to entrust administration of a powerhouse of industry and commerce to the oversight of a woman;  

Senju Tsunade,

her lineage, storied and esteemed, within and beyond the boundaries of the region.  She was a descendant of Senju Hotaka, a farmer with radical ideals.  In addition to revolutionizing animal husbandry, his experiments led to hybridization of indigenous plants, vegetables and trees.  Because of him Fire Country was recognized as a leader in all things agricultural as well as a pioneer in the field of veterinary medicine.  With the land’s abundant resources and a handful of willing workers, he built storehouses, amassing rot resistant grains, wild honey, dried fruits and herbs; dispatching his children abroad, he built a wider consumer base for Konoha’s bounty and ratified trade agreements between the five nations.

Over time, small factories sprung up to keep pace with demand.

Travel between the nations became a tedious and dangerous enterprise in the days of Tsunade’s great great great grandfather, Senju Atsushi.  Draft horse or ox drawn carts were easy pickings for roving brigands; should they reach their destination with cargo intact, it was still a fortnight’s trip.  Travel by sea shortened delivery time, yet perils from contrary winds and corsairs brimming with picaroons posed a risk for those aboard the tiny boats.  Atsushi began sending trained and armed security with every shipment whether on land or by sea; dressed as humble farmers, the incidences of robbery declined and Konoha’s reputation as a people not to be trifled with grew.  

To this day, ox drawn carts play an important role in the annual celebration commemorating Konoha’s growth.

Her great great grandfather, Senju Katsuro designed and built the ports that provided a safer environment in which to lade cargo.   He financed and built the mills which produced revenue for the then tiny village and established schools specializing in medicine, shipbuilding and perfume compounding.   Spearheading construction of rail lines and improving lanes from the farms, mills and factories, he ensured rapid turnaround times for incoming and outgoing ships. And with the revenue generated he purchased larger parcels of land, annexed the schools and founded a medical research facility.

He lived to see the day when Konoha became a prosperous and independent territory within Fire Country.

With a steadily growing population, Senju Hisao, her great grandfather strengthened the territory's infrastructure.  Upgrading existing sanitation methods, he ensured a reliable source of potable water as well as an underground system of waste disposal.  During his time as Governor, he designed and built the Administrative complex, moved the law enforcement building closer to the sea and instituted a mounted patrol to maintain checkpoints along the borders.

Lastly, her grandfather Senju Hashirama was instrumental in the reforestation of Konoha's indigenous trees and the introduction of new genera of plants and herbs within the land.  He overhauled local government, setting up a separate agency to handle monetary concerns related to foreign trade; this in turn, freed up the Governor’s office to focus the social, cultural and economic needs of those who lived in the territory.  Tsunade capitalized on his work, ensuring continued financial stability of the territory. She oversaw construction of new transient housing alongside the port area, segregating wearied crews from the general populace.  Annexing the medical facilities, she founded a state of the art research laboratory; there, new medications were developed and tested and cutting edge medical instruments and equipment were manufactured. Lastly, she instituted a training center for artisans and craftsmen, that the traditional work of their ancestors might be preserved.  

But if Senju Tsunade was the heart and brains of this realm, Morino Ibiki was its brawn.

Son of an equestrian breeder, Ibiki dreamt of the day he might escape the predictability of farm life. But as the eldest, he was expected to take over the family business; a life too sedate and monotonous for such an ambitious young man.  By age sixteen, he begged his parents to lie about his age that he might join the ranks of a growing military force.

With heavy hearts, they allowed him to do so.

When he returned home after twelve years’ service, mother and father deceased in his absence, he was a highly decorated, honorably discharged man of the world.  He walked with a slight limp these days -- the muscles in his hip and bones of his left ankle, irreparably damaged when his mount was felled by a samurai’s yajiri.

As long as he lived, he’d never forget that day.

Somehow freed from the weight of his horse, he lay in the dust of a foreign land as the iron covered boot of a warrior came into view.  One swing of the samurai’s katana put the horse out of its misery; another swing almost deprived him of vision, leaving behind a scar that ran from his right eye and extending past his jaw.  Writhing in pain, a final slice split the flesh next to his left eye and across his top and bottom lips as the samurai left him to die.  

A marked and bitter man, he spent the first six months back in Konoha wasting away his savings at the opposite end of a sake bottle.  The time for sorrowing over his fate sluggishly passed and in the harsh cold light of day, he took stock of his life and talents as he stood before a mirror in his lonely boardinghouse room near the port.

When not fogged by alcohol, he had a sharp mind, an eye for detail which saw what others missed.  Years in the military taught him to be a leader of men, to communicate his thoughts and ideas concisely and how to motivate others to accomplish defined goals.  

These were qualities that could be parlayed into a successful second career, of this he was certain.

However, a scarred face and irregular gait kept most of the ‘decent, marriageable’ women at bay for they feared interacting with him, convinced somehow that he was cursed by the gods.  But he wasn’t the sort of man who needed definition by the ties of marriage and children; his heart beat only to serve and protect the land and the people of Konoha and he would allow no impediments to swerve him from the desire of his heart.  His imposing physical presence and stern demeanor paved the way to sporadic employment and placed him on the path of service.  Hustling drunks from the taverns along the docks or protecting the assets at the bordello/boarding house, put money in his pocket, food on his table, and alcohol in his gullet.

But this was not the life he intended to live forever.

With his brother married, looking to start a family and overseeing the newly streamlined business of horse breeding and veterinary medicine, Ibiki fell back on the only marketable skills he possessed; he sobered up, applied for and was accepted as one of Konoha’s constables.

This he believed was his true calling in life.

He quickly moved up the ranks from border patrol to commanding units near the docks, to Supervisor of patrols and finally, sergeant in the newly formed investigations unit.  When the Commandant of Constables announced his plan to retire, Ibiki was the first choice for the position, however, the Governor had other plans.  She did away with the title of Commandant and appointed him Chief Inspector, granting him authority over every aspect of law enforcement.  

Under his guidance was a training center established for civilians; they were deputized upon completion of schooling and called into service during yearly festivals which attracted hordes of tourists and a sophisticated criminal element.  These ‘ready reserves’ also acted as search and recovery teams in times of natural disasters -- typhoons, mudslides and such like.  He tirelessly lobbied for a dojo specifically for the constable’s use and made it mandatory each officer take part in a martial arts program, for gone were the days in which a badge alone was enough to deter lawbreakers.  Since interlopers from other nations were becoming bolder and their attacks more brutal as they dared to break through Konoha’s rearguard, he tripled the number of uniformed officers patrolling the docks and outlying areas of the territory.   For those patrols, Ibiki acquired lightweight, protective under armor to keep them safe as they dealt with untrained hooligans wielding katana or tanto.

Through his efforts, the incidences of crime perpetrated by outsiders dwindled to single digits; his men were united in purpose and mind.  

All was well in the land and in his heart . . . for a time.

He’d lived through the horrors of war - seen evisceration, corpses swarming with maggots, bodies drawn and quartered and left in the streets as an example to others.

But the events of these last seven months were the most terrifying things he’d seen in years.

 

Notes:

The Meiji Restoration (1868-1912), was a chain of events which led to the consolidation of a political system under the Emperor of Japan.  During this time, the nation underwent a period of accelerated industrialization leading to its rise as a military power.  But before the far-reaching changes made possible by Emperor Meiji took firm root, every region in Japan maintained its independence.  Japan is in reality an archipelago, so whenever reference is made to the ‘five nations’, it refers to those self-governing regions not yet unified by one language or system of education.  It’s my weird way of melding the world of Naruto with some of the events that shaped the real nation of Japan. Though some events of this period serve as backdrop, our focus is on a hellish force older than time itself.

Archipelago: a large group or chain of islands.

Polestar: something that serves as a guiding principle; in the center of attention or attraction.

Hotaka: “step by step.”

Katsuro: “victorious son.”

Brigand: bandits, especially those of mountain or forest regions.

Corsair: a fast ship used for piracy.

Picaroon: rogue, vagabond, thief.

Hisao: “long-lived man.”

 


	2. Then and Now

 

Recherché Chapter One: Then and Now

 

Paper lanterns of orange, tan and yellow shooed away night’s lingering shadows as the ritual convoy wound through the orchards and groves in the west. Long before the morning sun shook off its slumber, the tinkle of tiny brass bells and the thunderous plodding of hooves against old stone pathways rustled the citizenry of Konoha from their comfortable beds.  The rumble of forty-seven ox drawn carts laden with timber would grow louder as they neared the central point of the territory and so too would the indistinct voices of stout workmen marching alongside the carts.

Residents raced to their windows and flung open the shutters - not to shake angry fists against the noisemakers, nor rain down dark curses on the heads of these roisterers as they traveled through dusty streets.  Instead, a tidal wave of cheers, whistles and applause swelled behind this ragtag caravan, nudging them onward, growing in volume as the people lifted their voices in a refrain of joy; this symphony of exuberance reached its crescendo as soon as the last wooden wheel of the forty seventh cart rolled into the town’s square.  With the somber ringing of the temple bells west of the downtown area, a reverent hush would fall; the fragrance of sandalwood and myrrh mingling with the prayers offered by a coterie of monks.

The procession was but one part of a time-honored tradition in Konoha, one heralding three nights of festivity. Once prayers concluded, the monotonous drone of saws and the clangorous rhythm of the carpenter's hammers began; the earthy scent of sanded lumber igniting a sense of expectation and wonder throughout the town.  Over the next fourteen days, the community Konoha swelled and as the inns filled, homeowners extended hospitality for those who’d made the sojourn from other parts of the territory.

Finally, on the fifteenth night of the eighth month, the downtown area was aglow with a sea of paper lanterns; ornate booths lined the lanes, vendors hawked their wares and proud farmers displayed the first fruits of their harvests.  Warm eventide air transported pungent aromas of roasting sweet potatoes, pumpkin, taro and chestnuts; beside every open window stood artful arrangements of pampas grass and bush clover, Tsukimi dango and raw chestnuts adorned family altars. These too were integral parts of the tradition thought to make the wishes and prayers of that household come to fruition.

It was a simpler time; children stayed up past their bedtime, scampering over cobble stoned streets, playing hide and seek among the booths - strolling musicians charmed the adults into forgetting their cares, to sing and dance with abandon. Young lovers jockeyed for space along the rocky shoreline admiring the beauty of the rising harvest moon’s reflection on the water’s tranquil surface; others spread blankets atop grassy knolls and hillocks, waiting for the moon to reach its zenith in the cloudless, indigo sky.

Ah yes, that’s how things used to be.

But on this, the first night of the great festival, there was only a melancholy chorus of lupine howls from the dense forests.  Devoid of adornment, the town square lay lifeless, dark and cold; from the hillocks where fragrant wild grasses sway in the wind, fat black crickets provide the night’s music.

And before the only unshuttered windows in town, a commanding figure stands, awash in the soft yellow moonlight.   A mountain of a man, Chief Inspector Ibiki Morino was hard to miss.  His eyes, black as coal and keener than a night heron’s, he scanned vacated pathways and side alleys hoping to capture movement of any kind ...

there was none.

Tonight, every family huddled together, trembling behind bolted doors. There they would remain until morning light, kneeling before family altars, chanting prayers and whispering petitions to their ancestors for a form of protection, a sense of security Ibiki could no longer provide. He understood their fear … he shared their sense of helplessness, but he alone bore the brunt of their anger.

And as he stood silent vigil, Ibiki prayed as well;

for wisdom,

for favor from the gods who’d forsaken his people

and failing those two . . .

he prayed for luck.

In the days of his youth, the full moon’s monthly appearance signified a time of renewal, rebirth and hope for the future.  But these last seven months, the full moon was but an omen of brutality; a clarion call to the depths of hell to let loose a foul scourge from its darkest recesses.

_Times like these call for a stiff shot of brandy_

_to calm the mind and settle the stomach,_

that’s what he told himself over an hour ago, as the liqueur flowed from its decanter.   _Just something to keep my hands engaged and mind distracted,_ he reasoned. _Can’t afford overindulgence ..._ _must needs keep my wits._  

In those first few hours, he kept his promise, but as time dragged on, he feared crushing the fragile crystal with every step he took.  Unanswered questions swirl through an overwrought mind ...  the repeated cries for swift resolution to this menace echo in his ears; his thoughts, plunging him deeper into depression’s miry clay.

A final swish of the amber liquid inside the snifter’s balloon released a heady bouquet of peaches, pears and a hint of aged wood, calming rattled nerves.   The mellow heat smoothly burned down his throat as he emptied the glass in one gulp.  

_So much for temperance._

Savoring the sweetness, he closed his eyes for a moment, as if to push back against the unrelenting darkness welling up in his soul;

yet the darkness would not yield.

Triumph or tragedy - no in between, nowhere to run ... nowhere to hide should tonight’s carefully laid plans fail.

 _No, we will succeed,_ he thought as he refilled the snifter.   _I’ve thirty mounted constables patrolling the western end of town, thirty more walking beats along the wharf area on the eastern flank and fifty deputized men scattered by the mills and through the forests_.   

_We cannot fail!_

Yet his thoughts wander ever backward, making him acknowledge an unwanted possibility.  Deep down inside, he knew; the bony finger of death would indeed beckon another eternal captive ere the dawn, as it had these past months.

The alcohol roving about in his system was bringing down his defenses and slowly targeting his insecurities.  

He turned away, temporarily abandoning his post.  Soft moonbeams illumine a path through the spacious and sparsely furnished living area which doubled as his bedroom and remote command post; a lightweight wool overcoat, draped over the back of a chair near the couch and his heavy black boots stood in readiness beside the front door. With another gulp of brandy working its way down his gullet, Ibiki carelessly loosened the narrow black tie and itchy starched collar as he wilted into a buttery soft brown leather couch and closed his eyes.  Immediately, images of seven young women splashed over his mind, their throats shredded, their bodies drained of their life force, save for tiny droplets of blood on their clothing.

No need for investigation after the first victim’s discovery - a common prostitute; an unfortunate, not unexpected end - a hazard of her chosen profession. A month later, victim number two - another prostitute, found outside the bordello that masqueraded as a boarding house near the port.  Assuming the perpetrator a seafaring man, he’d doubled the amount of constables assigned to the docks; that proved a waste of time and manpower.  With his own officers convinced these murders were the victim’s due for pursuing an immoral lifestyle, their ‘investigations’ were halfhearted at best and rotting corpses lay unclaimed in the morgue for weeks, ultimately relegated to the potter’s field.  

The only things linking these women were occupation and where their bodies were dumped; the eastern edge of the town where transients found a night’s lodging and men of a coarser nature lived and worked.  His constables again dismissed these acts as the work of a lone, disgruntled customer and at first, Ibiki was inclined to agree.  

But the next two murders ripped holes through that theory.

The third victim, a washerwoman -  her body left in an alley behind the laundry, ten feet from the Administrative complex. The next one, a talented, comely seamstress, propped up at the base of an apple tree, mere steps from Ibiki’s backyard.  With no family to claim their bodies, they too were interred in pauper’s graves.

However, with the next three victims, the murderer changed tactics.

All of them, well-educated and respectable young women from noble families; when news of their deaths were made public month after month, the halcyon town was thrown into an uproar.  Paranoia cut a swath through the tight-knit community like a stiff breeze through fields of white headed dandelions; wariness unknown before, turned even the most mundane social interactions into waltzes of polite unease.

‘This isn’t the work of your average thrill killer,’ he remembered telling his men. ‘Instead, we’re dealing with someone of great intelligence and extreme precision.’

 _But to what end?_ he wondered.

_What’s the angle and why was Konoha the target?_

He knew there were factions inside the territory, both political and religious who opposed dealings with the Western world.   _Had they orchestrated these murders hoping the Governor and Advisory Council would abort trade negotiations?_   _Or …  were the gods truly angry ... was this divine retribution because Konoha was about to bow the knee to the god of greed?_

There were also those of the opinion that a ravening pack of wolves or other woodland creatures were responsible for the recent avalanche of misfortune.   _It’s the influence of the_ _moon’_ they said, which allegedly fueled the lust for human blood, driving these beasts into a cyclic feeding frenzy. Still others believed recent renovation and excavation near the old manor house north of the cemetery had somehow angered a powerful spirit being; destroying young lives was its way of ‘ _exacting revenge on those who dared disrupt its eternal sleep’_ , or so the rumors went.

 _Guileless townsfolk,_ he chuckled to himself, _so quick to believe outlandish things._

But with a deranged misogynist on the loose, there was little time to entertain baseless conjecture and silly superstitions. Ibiki trusted his gut which insisted this killer walked on two legs, not four and that this so-called phantom possessed a physical body – one that could be apprehended and eventually executed for his crimes.

All that was left him now were incongruent facts and an eerie pattern of behavior.

First off, it was physically impossible to leave nothing behind or take nothing away from any crime scene. He knew that. Yet, neither footprints or wagon wheel impressions were found near the corpses indicating the path taken to or from them, nor was there evidence the body had been dragged to its final location. No scraps of clothing or strands of hair clutched in the victim's hands either, which signified the women knew and trusted the assailant or the attack was so sudden they didn’t have time to fight.  

The wily mongrel didn’t even leave a scent behind for the bloodhounds to track.

Second, the killer was very particular about _when_ he struck; the murders always occurred once a month during the three-night phase of a full moon. Yet, no one ever reported hearing a scuffle nor panicked screams in the night.  Next, the murderer was particular about _who_ he killed.  All the victims were between the ages of seventeen to twenty-five and though the first two were ‘sex-for-hire’ workers, there was never any evidence of rape or carnal activity of any kind prior to their deaths.  Obviously, the killer derived a perverted form of sexual gratification by overpowering defenseless women. He also took great care to lay the victim's' hands in their laps, intertwining their fingers as if in prayer.  

Lastly, though their throats were ripped asunder, the carotid artery was always cleanly cut, as if by a surgical instrument.  But how this maniac drained the blood from their bodies without splattering it all over the crime scene was still a mystery.  Ibiki allowed himself another chuckle, remembering the fallout after interrogating every physician and surgeon in the territory.  Questioning those upstanding men, treating them like common criminals earned him a good scolding from the Governor, but he had no regrets.

“You sick bastard,” he snarled, raising the snifter to his lips once more, “you will slip up and I’ll be there to catch you.”

Coming face to face with a psychopath of this caliber, probing the depths of a reprobate mind, perchance discovering the motives behind the madness contorted Ibiki’s lips into a crooked grin. He’d admit it to none other, but the sheer bravado this killer possessed garnered his grudging respect. What angered him was the realization that bringing this madman to justice wouldn’t give him the peace of mind he needed. Wrapping his hands around the neck of this cold-blooded fiend, feeling his last breath escape from his body and insufflate against his skin, that had become Ibiki’s obsession.

“Ah well,” he said lifting the nearly empty glass in mock salute to the moon. “I always did enjoy a spirited game of cat and mouse.”

**Recherché**

The crunch of gravel beneath heavy boots stirred him from a light doze long before the frantic rapping at his front door would have; expecting a report about the killer’s apprehension was why the slight bit of rest he got was fitful. He was alert and on his feet in an instant, his overcoat clutched in his left hand.

“Inspector,” the man’s voice pled from behind the oaken door. “Inspector, please … come quickly!”

Ibiki ground his teeth and took a deep breath.  Judging from the panicked tone of voice, he knew it wasn’t one of his constables.

 _Damn it!_   _This wasn’t supposed to happen again!_

The ornate brass doorknob slammed against the interior wall when he flung it open revealing a distraught and barely recognizable fisherman; his trademark sunglasses sat crookedly atop the familiar blue bandana, and his sweat soaked blue shirt, flecked with vomitus, heaved with every nervous breath.

“Ebisu,” he snapped as he stooped to pull on his boots, “for god’s sake man … catch hold yourself!”

“But, Inspector . . . the boat . . . my boat … there’s a body!”

Running a calloused palm from the nape of his neck, over the smooth skin of his bald head and down a scarred face as he stood, Ibiki calmed himself; it just wouldn’t do to vent his frustrations on a civilian, especially one who just got the fright of his life. He gingerly pushed the other man away with one hand, closing the door behind him with the other as he took off toward the port with Ebisu at his heels, struggling to describe the sight which greeted him before dawn.

“I think it’s one of the . . . one of the Hyuga girls,” he breathed trying to keep pace with the Inspector’s long strides.

When _that_ name rolled off the other man’s tongue, Ibiki felt his stomach drop to the soles of his boots.    _Wasn’t it bad enough the killer slipped past my men again last night?_ A _nd if Ebisu’s guess is correct, I’ll have to contend with that posturing, elitist family breathing down my neck. They’ll wield their political clout and sure as salt, I’ll have to fight off another attempt to remove me from office.   Damn it!_

He shook his head and quickened the pace.

The sun’s rays, not yet strong enough to burn off the cool, wispy fog, through it he saw members of Ebisu’s crew on the dock, their heads bowed in respect for the dead.  To their left, another constable took statements from fishermen aboard the vessel moored beside Ebisu’s.  Suddenly, a figure clad in black from head to foot wriggled free of the fog’s embrace, waving its arms about wildly.

“Oi, Inspector ...over here!”

 _Dear god,_ he thought _, it’s too early in the morning for this flibbertigibbet!_ Shiranui Genma, Coroner and mortician, a thin, pale skinned man in his early thirties with kind light brown eyes and a comforting demeanor.  Always approachable and easy to talk to, Genma was privy to everyone’s heartaches and dark secrets; on the downside, he was a high-spirited man, enthusiastic about his work to the point of discomfort.   As the territory’s foremost expert in thanatology, Genma delighted in explaining the mechanics of death to all who would listen. To be fair, it was during one of his incessant rants about the life cycle of a blowfly, that Ibiki nailed down an approximate time of death in a cold case, which led to the exoneration of an innocent man.

_Maybe in the midst of his blustering he might prove helpful again, but I’m in no mood to hear him prattle on about the marvels of rigor mortis right now._

“Looks like we got another tough one,” he called out.  

Ibiki nodded and kept walking, hoping his demeanor would dissuade further inane conversation.   Naturally that didn’t work; soon, Genma was at his right side, peering around him, extending condolences to Ebisu.

“What rotten luck, eh, old man?  Not to worry,” he said, gesturing to himself and Ibiki, “between me and the big guy we’ll make this town safe again -- am I right?”

Ibiki uttered not a word, listening intently as Genma continued his line of questioning about the body’s positioning, if a trail or pool of blood was near or underneath the body and so forth.  Turning greener with each question, a mush mouthed Ebisu stuttered out his responses.

 _Hang on,_ Ibiki thought _, here’s a man with an uncanny knack to meet or beat my officers to every crime scene; a man who embraces death like a long-lost paramour and one who has access to surgical instruments used for autopsies or embalming cadavers.  Surely, he couldn’t be the one who was ...no, he talks too much …  lacks the finesse our murderer’s shown thus far.  Still, it might not be a bad idea to bring him in for questioning at some point._

“What say ye, Inspector?  It’ll be a proud day when _we_ catch this blackguard.”

Ibiki cut his eyes at the other man though Genma didn’t take the hint; he was still smiling brightly, his brown eyes twinkling as tobacco stained teeth clamped down on a silver tipped kiseru.

Once they stepped on the wooden planks of the docks, they didn’t have to go far to find victim number eight.

There she lay in the bow of the boat, her hands folded on her abdomen, a once beautiful face, frozen in the rictus of surprise.  Like the others, her throat was ripped apart and her clothing intact; an expensive jeweled brooch above her left breast sparkled as the sun rose.  Long jet black hair pinned up behind pale ears and the family crest etched into the delicate pearl earrings were enough to confirm her identity even at this distance.

_Damn it!  She is a Hyuga._

“Constable Sakai … disperse this crowd, the scene now belongs to Mr. Shiranui.  And you, Himura, notify the family and accompany them to the Coroner’s office.”

With that, Ibiki turned and headed toward the Administrative center.  He’d have to hurry and submit a preliminary report to the Governor before the Hyuga showed up and lodged a formal complaint against him.  By the time he found a scrap of paper in his coat pocket and scrawled a note, most of the townsfolk were already gathering in the plaza.  He heard their jeers, felt the weight of their angry stares as he slipped the note beneath the door, yet he stood tall, moving briskly through the crowd, his eyes focused on the building one hundred and fifty paces away.

Once inside the constabulary, he breathed a sigh of relief; the station house was quiet this morning, his men wrapped up in their grief and feelings of powerlessness.  Down the hall and to the left was his office, a fortress of silence where he could indulge this bitter disappointment in private.  But the flickering light of an oil lamp’s flame against mud brown walls and the sound of conversation from inside his office raised his hackles.

 _Must be the Governor and Advisory Council come to curse me to my face_.

Entering the large space, conversation between the three young men came to a halt. Their manner of dress, tailored Western suits, like those the European envoys wore, led him to believe they represented the Hyuga in some capacity; lawyers, no doubt.  

"Well that was quick,” he said standing beside the open door. “How may I be of assistance to you gentlemen?"

The young men stood as one turning to face him, each bowing politely. The brown-haired man in the middle, the one with a scar across his nose, spoke first.

“Are you Inspector Morino?”   

He maintained eye contact with the man as he stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. “I am … and who would you be?”

“Dr. Umino Iruka and these are my companions.  To my left, Mr. Kotetsu Hagane and to my right, Mr. Izumo Kamizuki.”   

Taking care to avoid the sharp corner of his wide, wooden work space, Ibiki reconsidered his impression of the trio.   _Fresh faced, bright-eyed, all of them under fifty years of age …  probably aren’t connected to the Hyuga, but it never hurts to err on the side of caution._ “Thought I wouldn’t see you lot until the family was officially notified,” he said taking his seat. “I can’t release any information just now, so, if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I have a great deal of--”

“You were expecting us sir?” the one named Izumo asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kotetsu said. “He obviously thinks we’re somebody else.”

“Yes, well … be that as it may,” Dr. Umino countered, “we’ve come to assist you, Inspector.”

“Of course you have.  Leave your information with the watch commander.  Good day gentlemen.”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand sir,” Izumo said.  “We’ve traveled a great distance to--”

“Oh no, I understand completely and as I have no time for foolishness, kindly dismiss yourselves.”

“Now see here, Inspector Morino,” he heard the good doctor say, “I will not leave this place until you’ve heard me out.”

“Under your own power or with the assistance of my constables ... you will depart my presence.”

Suddenly a heavy, brown leather portfolio fell from Umino’s hand, scattering the pile of papers before Ibiki when it landed with a resounding thump.

“This represents years of research and investigation by my father ..."

Ibiki eyed the thing suspiciously; leaning back with his palms against the edge of the desk, he lifted his head, glaring at this Umino chap who was still talking.

“. . .  the same monster.  The identity of the murderer you seek is within the pages of this book.  

 Are you sure you want to dismiss us now, Inspector?”

 NOTES:

The Japanese night heron typically inhabits dense, coniferous and broad-leaved forests on hills and low mountains close to bodies of water, i.e. rivers and streams.

In this strange little world, the Hyuga family does NOT have the trademark lilac eyes so familiar to us fans of the anime or manga. The Hyuga however are extremely proud of their lineage in Fire Country and most members of this clan wear miniature replications of the family crest on some part of their clothing or jewelry.

Roisterer:  those who revel noisily or without restraint. 

Halcyon: calm, peaceful, or tranquil.

Insufflate:  the act or action of blowing on.

Flibbertigibbet: a chattering or flighty, light-headed person.

Blackguard:  low, contemptible person; scoundrel.

Kiseru: a Japanese smoking pipe.

Thanatology:  the study of death and its surrounding circumstances. **  
**


	3. Recherche: Murder Morn

Recherché: Murder Morn

 

This sort of exchange typically happened in the town square or squad room of the constabulary; never before was anyone bold enough to violate the sanctity of his private office.  

_Great … three emotional nutcases; either they’re incredibly gutsy or incredibly stupid… I’ll find out in a minute._

With a sigh, Ibiki steeled himself to take this intrusion in stride, after all, confrontation was the norm on ‘murder morn.’  

 _Let’s see now … Umino, you’re brash, like all Europeans_ _...  yet the pattern and rhythm of your speech is unmistakably Japanese.  Interesting._

Umino… the surname didn’t ring a bell, nor did he remotely resemble any of the families Ibiki knew in the territory.   He was of average height and weight for a man in his late twenties, early thirties, with chiseled facial features and a stocky build.  There was a flicker of indomitability in those cocoa colored eyes, one that was in disharmony with the silly grin on his lips. _What a contradictory fellow; your eyes blaze with anger, your cheeks aflush with embarrassment._   _What’s this now?  A hostile stance, a straightening of the shoulders; is he bracing to attack me or buttressing himself against further opposition or interruption?_

“Pardon Inspector … hardihood was never my intention,” he said rising from a swift, formal bow.  

Ibiki watched the young man smooth the heels of his hands down the lower part of his jacket. _Nouveau riche … a_ _middle-class upbringing made him mannerable at least._

Ibiki urged him to continue with a slight incline of his head.  

 _Aside from a flash paper temperament, the only other thing that stands out about him is the brown; everything about this man is in shades of brown._ His skin, the color of black tea mixed with cream; the sort of fellow who could disappear in a milling crowd and yet command the attention of everyone around him.  The thin, crooked scar bisecting his face was of a sepia tone and his hair, slicked back with pomade and gathered in a low tail had a rusty, auburn tint.

Gracefully standing erect, Iruka looked him squarely in the eye and smiled. “I’ll not mince words sir.  We have four weeks in which to hunt down and exterminate a killer. Should that window of opportunity pass, the only witness to another slaying will be the next full moon.”

_So, a blusterer then.  He knows when the killer prefers to strike, just like everyone else in the territory does._

Another subtle tilt of the head acknowledged the truth spoken, a flick of his wrist granted the three men permission to retake their seats.

_It’s all too neat.  Their sudden appearance, the information they’re eager to share; is this a small mercy from the gods; an answer to the prayers of those who believed the deities were omniscient and benevolent?_

His secular nature prevented rejoicing; he’d seen men of their ilk before.  

 _Mouthpieces ... shills for a killer, posing as learned and reasonable men.  Conservatively dressed marionettes they were,_ _morally and ethically bankrupt willing to hide behind a veneer of respectability to mortgage their humanity for a few pieces of gold._

As to the portfolio lying in the middle of his desk, it was as a bucket of bloody chum, bait to draw him close, to entice him to open wide his mouth in the hope of extracting information.  Then again, if these men weren’t puppets of a madman, they were something far more despicable; thrill seekers – perverse, unnaturally fixated on or sexually aroused by accounts of the macabre.  Still, they were nothing like the usual wild-eyed conspiracy theorists, the ultra-religious fear mongers or the moonstruck plain folk which daily paraded through the outer office demanding to be heard. They reeked of salt air, obviously come from afar to gorge themselves on the rancid fat of thrice damned superstitions and old wives’ tales. 

The indiscriminate buzz around town, the rumors flittering through the shops, seedy taverns and the docks … suddenly the things Ibiki took for granted these past months, began gnawing at his conscience.  Those tales from the dark side he couldn’t quarantine had finally wormed their way into the ears and out of the mouths of braggadocious sailors, washing up on distant shores like gaudy trinkets of gospel truth. For those with an unslakable thirst and ears itching to hear tales of the mysterious and dangerous Orient, the endless repetition of these embellished fabrications was manna for the masses abroad.

_And if this triumvirate of dandies know of Konoha’s misfortune, there’s no telling how far and wide the news has spread.  No stopping the venom poisoning the minds of those who could bring trade aspirations with Europe and the Americas to a screaming halt._

The very idea set Ibiki’s teeth on edge.

**Recherché**

The measured click of the brass pendulum in the squat grandfather clock, the unvaried tick of its second hand … these were the only sounds in the tense room. But silence and occasional eye contact were the only offensive tools a good investigator needed in the interview process.  If Ibiki said  or did nothing  long enough, his subjects would reveal their true intentions via subtle nonverbal cues.  With his elbow propped on the chair’s armrest, his brawny fingers, one curled over his lips, the others pressing into his cheekbone, Ibiki’s eyes darted between the leather bound folder on his desk, the unperturbed Dr. Umino, the engaged Mr. Kamizuki and the sullen Mr. Hagane.

_Hagane Kotetsu; he was an easy read._

He stood out from the others simply because of his facial hair; as silly as that seemed on the surface, for Ibiki it was an indicator of a paradoxical personality.  His goatee, thin, neatly trimmed, perfectly symmetrical and jet black, was in stark contrast to the hair on his head; thick, dark brown and unkempt. From the time he took his seat, Hagane’s heel tapped uneven rhythms against the floorboards; his fingers, when they weren’t brushing at his goatee, drummed at his thigh.   _Nervous, unable to sit still for longer than a minute … a man of action;_ _one given to ‘doing’, rather than thinking overmuch._  There was an earthy shrewdness about him, a feral instinct for survival his two intellectual pals lacked. His eyes, blacker than a starless night and deeper than a pit in the ocean … this one was definitely hiding something.  But of the three, Hagane was the one most relatable; a man more at ease in the wide-open grasslands or tramping through the moors.  Plucked from his natural element, handcuffed by social etiquette and friendship, his eyes flitted over everything in the office, as if he were searching for an escape route.

The last young man, Kamizuki Izumo was most interesting.  A gallimaufry of his friends with a unique viewpoint.  He bore a passing physical resemblance to Umino, and possessed a guardedness more pronounced than the young Hagane.   _A regal bearing; never once averting his eyes from mine, as if determining my worth; this wasn’t haughtiness, but the mark of a self-assured man._ Just like Hagane, there was a dangerous edge behind those intelligent, piercing brown eyes; like Umino, he had book smarts, fortified with a healthy dose of common sense.

The sound of heavy hurried footsteps in the hallway disrupted his thoughts and brought the acid in his empty stomach to a boil; someone moving with that kind of urgency always meant bad news.  There was a light rap on the door a second before the smiling man in black entered.  

“Oh!  Excuse me gents.  Didn’t realize you were in a meeting.  Heh ... so quiet in here, felt like I was back in my own shop for a minute.”  Tapping the brim of his hat, he nodded to the young men as he walked toward Ibiki’s desk.  “Keep your seats ... I’ll just be a moment.”

Genma was grinning like a hungry cat in a room full of lame, juicy mice, as he triumphantly waved a slip of paper before the irritated Inspector’s eyes.  “Representatives of the family just left my place … got you a positive identification.  You know, I never could tell those Hyuga girls apart … ‘stair steps’ they were, practically identical if you ask me.”  Turning his back on Ibiki, he stuck out his hand. “Name’s Shiranui Genma, coroner and undertaker. “I know everybody in town … can’t say I’ve ever seen you three before though.”

Ibiki rolled his eyes.   _Genma, always flapping his gums or poking that pointed nose into things that don’t concern him; damn fool’s about as subtle as a herd of elephants in a glass factory._

“Umino … Dr. Umino.   My friends, Hagane Kotetsu and Kamizuki Izumo.  We just arrived from England last night.”

As their conversation, rather Genma’s monologue continued, Ibiki made himself concentrate on the form in his hand; the soft leather of the chair back melting around him after he read the first three lines of text:

_Hyuga Hitomi, twenty-three years of age._

_Cause of death, exsanguination._

_Manner of death, homicide._

A beautiful young woman, a lifetime of opportunity and happiness stretching before her, was now a cold, impersonal statistic.  Hers had been a life of privilege, she wanted for nothing, yet she defied her family and struck out on her own, determined to serve the underprivileged, neglected and the forgotten. Quite a ruckus accompanied her decision to intern as a pediatric nurse in the slums of London, or so he’d heard from the mounted patrolmen.

Scarcely a month passed since she returned home.

As he closed his eyes, Ibiki could still see her mother standing on the wharf, weeping bitterly as she bid bon voyage to her eldest daughter.  And on a warm autumn night one year later, the entire family turned out, welcoming her back on that same wharf; he could still see her, running down the gangplank, falling into the embrace of her parents clutching a nursing certificate in one hand and a valise full of memories in the other.  Elegant horse drawn carriages lined up by the wharf that night to fetch the entourage to an extravagant welcome home party. How odd it seemed in retrospect; her parents, anxious about her safety while she wandered about a foreign land, yet, they allowed her to wait unaccompanied for a ride home one fateful moonlit night.  Now, this vivacious young woman lay on a porcelain slab in the morgue, fifty feet from the wharf. . .  brutally slaughtered five miles from her ancestral home.

Casting aside the coroner’s report, Ibiki leaned forward, his eyes lingering on the unopened portfolio lying in the middle of his desk. Expertly tooled, its stitches weathered by time and careful handling, were of a darker brown than the case itself.

_And Umino wants me to believe this piece of animal hide holds the key to a murderer’s identity?_

In the very center of the case was a familiar kamon, one he’d seen numerous times in the military.  Slowly tracing the raised emblem with his finger, he interrupted Genma’s rambling.   “Umino … that’s your surname correct?”

Iruka tilted his head, his smiling eyes falling on Ibiki’s finger as it hovered over the embossed design. “Yes, that’s right.  Shimizu was the surname of my mother’s family. That portfolio, was a wedding gift my maternal grandfather crafted ... it’s one of the few things I have left to remember my parents by.”

“Dead, are they?” Ibiki said pulling the portfolio closer to himself.   

Every eye in the room latched onto him – Genma, stunned to silence by the crude tone of his voice, Kotetsu angrily fidgeting in his seat.  The combined weight of Kamizuki and Umino’s grief almost bowled him over.

“Yes, Inspector … they are deceased.  My mother died years ago ... my father passed away in May of this year.  That’s why it took us so long to arrive, I had to settle his affairs, close up the house and--”

“This isn’t a Fire Country kamon. Where exactly was your mother’s family from, Doctor Umino?”

Iruka’s eyes misted over and he swallowed hard before answering.  “Water Country sir, they were buraku, tanners by trade; the finest saddle makers in the entire five country region--”

“Water Country … well, that explains your name.”

Kotetsu shot forward in his seat, “What the hell does that have to do with anything?  Thought we came here to prevent another murder, not--”

“Please,” Iruka stretched out his arm to restrain his friend.  “I’m certain our goal and his are one and the same.” His hand fell to his companion’s wrist and he gently shook it.  “The Inspector doesn’t know us from a hole in the ground … we barged into his office without a letter of introduction preceding us or a confirmed appointment--”

“Won’t you ever listen?  I’ve told you time and again, soliciting law enforcement isn’t going to work,” he snapped, jerking his wrist from the gentle grip.  “We need to handle this thing ourselves!”

 “Tetsu, we need to work in conjunction with and through the proper channels,” said Izumo.  “Like it or not, the constables will--”

 “Get in our way and waste our time!  We know what we’re looking for and we know how to deal with it when we find it!   This meeting’s just going to end with him thinking we're crazy before he kicks us out of here!”

A terse conversation in an indistinct dialect ensued as Iruka and Izumo pleaded with a reluctant Kotetsu for patience.

“Gentlemen, you have not, because you ask not,” Ibiki said.   “Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for, who knows?  Maybe I _can_ help.”

Hagane folded his arms over his chest while Iruka and Izumo exchanged hesitant glances.

“Pardon, Genma, isn't there something, or rather, _someone_ that needs your undivided attention?”

“Nope, but thanks for asking, Inspector,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets and leaning against the desk.  “Miss Hyuga will keep for a few minutes more, besides, I’m curious about what’s inside that solander.  While you were ignoring us Inspector, I found out the elder Dr. Umino was a physician …reckon you’ll need my help deciphering the medical lingo in there.” Looking over at Iruka, he hastily added, “No offense, but you’re a Doctor of philosophy, not medicine, right?”

“Correct.  My doctorates are in anthropology and archaeology, Mr. Shiranui. My father was a physician,” he said reaching for the portfolio, “later in life he became obsessed with the occult and paranormal.”  Opening the leather case, Iruka slowly flipped through wrinkled, tattered pages filled with detailed drawings of wolves, bats and hideously deformed humanoid beings.  Images of grotesque creatures sailed past Ibiki’s eyes until they came to rest on an ink splotched page filled with notes.

 “What we’re looking for Inspector, is a class of demons known as Jiki-Ketsu-Gaki; wailing corpses who thirst for blood.”

 _Knew he had a screw loose somewhere._   “Well, I wish you luck in your quest for a being that doesn't exist outside of fairy tales.   What I’m looking for Dr. Umino, is a human being, not a phantasm or figment of an overactive imagination--”

“Inspector, Jiki-Ketsu-Gaki have shape shifting abilities, they can transform into animals or take on the form of a living human being at will.  Some of the oldest and most powerful of these beings can and do stalk their prey invisibly--”

“I’m certain they can, but that’s of no interest to me.  You’re in need of a shaman or an exorcist, not an officer of the law.  On second thought, perhaps the monks at the Fire Temple might be intrigued by your father's research about preta ... why not share it with them?”  Slamming the portfolio closed, he pushed it under Iruka’s hand.   “Once again, I bid you good day gentlemen.”

“But, Inspector,” Iruka said as he stood, “I believe--”

“I said good day, sir!”

The noise of the office door opening was covered up by the sound of Ibiki’s booming voice.  Silently, a tall, thin woman with short black hair approached and stood beside his desk.

“Morning Miss Shizune,” they all heard Genma say.  “Not looking for me, are you?”

“Afraid not,” she said, bowing before the four men and then to Ibiki.  “My apologies Inspector but the Governor requests your presence immediately.”

“How fortunate then, we’ve just now adjourned.” The abrupt manner in which he stood signaled meeting's end to all present.  "I'm sure you can see yourselves out gentlemen."  

“If it’s alright with you Inspector and uh, Dr. Umino, I wouldn’t mind having a look see at that research.  Always been curious about the supernatural myself--”

“Some other time perhaps, Mr. Shiranui,” was Izumo’s respectful response. “A visit to the Fire Temple wasn’t on our agenda, but as the Inspector pointed out, it might prove beneficial.”

A flummoxed Kotetsu snapped, “But we’re supposed to go to the--”

“Come along Tetsu,” Iruka said.  “If we hurry, we might catch the monks before mid-morning prayers.”

"Huh?"  Kotetsu angrily glanced between his friends as if he'd never seen either of them before.  

“The hell’s the matter with you two?”

NOTES:

Indomitable: that cannot be subdued or overcome as persons, will or courage; unconquerable.

Aflush: fully or generously supplied with something.

Hardihood: audacity or impudence.

Secular:  not spiritual; of or relating to the physical world; controlled by the government rather than the church or temple.

Paradoxical:  having seemingly contradictory qualities or phases.

Moor: a tract of land preserved for game.

Portfolio: a large, thin flat case for loose sheets of paper such as drawings or maps.

Hitomi Hyuga: a conveniently disposable character; rest assured, I would never kill off the shy, yet strong-willed Hinata or her younger sister Hanabi.

Kamon:  a family crest, a Japanese heraldic symbol.

Gallimaufry: hodgepodge, jumble, confused medley.

Shimizu: “Pure or clear water.”

Buraku or burakumin: “hamlet people,” an outcast group at the bottom of the Japanese social order, in the feudal era.  These were people considered ‘impure,’ tainted by death because of the work they did (executioners, undertakers, butchers or tanners).

Solander:  a case that held maps or other large documents.  It was made to resemble a book, having the front cover serve as a lid. Genma incorrectly refers to the portfolio this way.

Jiki-Ketsu-Gaki:  creatures of Japanese myth.   Because of the way they’re depicted as skeletal beings with distended bellies, abnormally small mouths and long thin throats, they are also known as “hungry-ghosts”; these nocturnal creatures or spirits have been cursed with an insatiable hunger or thirst for blood, in particular as a result of their bad deeds or the evil intent they possessed in their lifetime.  Also known as classes of preta, Buddhist monks conduct a special day of observance in mid-August to remember the gaki.

Preta: often depicted in Japanese art (particularly that from the Heian period) as emaciated human beings with bulging stomachs and inhumanly small mouths and throats. They are frequently shown licking up spilled water in temples or accompanied by demons representing their personal agony. Pretas dwell in the waste and desert places of the earth, and vary in situation according to their past karma. Since 657, some Japanese Buddhists have observed a special day in mid-August to remember the _gaki_. Through such offerings of food and drink and remembrances ( _segaki_ ), it is believed that the hungry ghosts may be released from their torment.

Gaki: hungry dead or spoiled child.

 


	4. Recherché: Routines and Revelations

A civilian stumbled upon the latest victim - frantic, he'd beat down the front door of the Chief Inspector’s home.   _Routine._  But no ordinary deceased was she; her family’s pedigree predated Konoha’s founding, their social standing, higher than the stars in the welkin.  And then, there was the voluble Coroner; chock full of cheesy grins and fallacious expectations. _Routine._ Now, a summons to appear before the Governor with a winsome escort to guarantee prompt attendance; she’d also record what promised to be an ear-blistering, ego-deflating reprimand.   _Routine._

_Could this morning get any worse?_

“Well, the Governor’s mood was … unreadable,” he heard her say.  “At least she wasn’t cursing a blue streak when I left … that’s a good sign, right?”

“Hard to tell.  Lady Tsunade is a woman of mercurial temperament, Shizune.   Starting to think I picked the wrong week to quit smoking.”

A heartening touch to the tip of his shoulder, a wan smile and the intendment of comfort shone in her eyes.  But nothing she could say or do now would make him believe this meeting would end better than his carefully laid, perfectly executed and completely empty trap had last night.  Perhaps, nothing would satisfy the restless feeling, deep inside. _Revelation._

As they turn the corner and step over the threshold of the squad room, they were swept into a vortex of sight, sound and smell; splashed down in a sea of dark blue uniforms, the officers navigate crooked paths around them like frothy waves.  Flotsam and jetsam of superfluous conversation, boisterous jesting and spirited laughter sprung up from scratched, dusty floorboards; clambering through the windows, briny breezes scatter the tang of bay rum, unwashed, sweaty men and fragrant pipe tobaccos over them ...

 _Guess I was wrong,_ he thought.

It was rare when the noise level in this room rose above a dull roar, paydays being the exception, of course. The duties of a constable kept them outside these brick and mortar confines, attendant upon keeping the peace, they worked and moved with the pace of the people.  Settling the occasional squabble between neighbors, rounding up kids playing hooky or stealing fruit from vendors – that sort of thing, their constant presence used to be a source of security for the people . . . now it was just a reminder of how fragile and uncertain life was.  Yet this morning, it looked like every uniformed officer on the force had shoehorned themselves in the building.  On the brink of chaos, Ibiki felt himself stand taller. Yes, this was his brand of normalcy and these men . . . his saving grace.  

 _I see …  leaning on one another, they rebound from malaise, providing the unspoken support which the public cannot._ Hope, feeble at first, stirred in the corner of his heart.   _They haven’t given up yet… why should I?_

To his right, about fifteen feet away from the watch commander’s desk assembled the usual complement of assorted, but harmless nuts.  A concerned citizen’s choir singing a familiar refrain of questions, their voices modulating in harmony as they ridiculed the constable’s mental competency and railed against the inept handling of a homegrown horror.  In between stanzas of this oft heard medley, was the childlike reprise begging for assurance of their continued safety.   _Routine._

To his left, at the far end of the squad room, four constables stood between a disgruntled merchant and an offended ship’s captain.  A loud, vulgar dispute centering around delivery of damaged goods and refusal to pay for said items.   _Routine._ Exhausted from last night’s excursion into futility, a crooked line of civilian patrol members, propped themselves against the wall nearest the restroom behind the desk sergeant’s area.  Some of them were watching the show put on by the merchant and the seaman, others dozed off right where they stood, all of them waiting to receive a chit for their service.

Lastly, seated at a desk nearest him was a broken hearted elderly woman weeping into her apron; she was another regular.  Her fourteen year old grandson snuck out of the house late last night as was his habit.  The wringing of worried hands would eventually become the shaking of an angry gnarled finger when the boy finally turned up -- unharmed and apologetic. Seems the kid had an appetence to watch longshoremen load and unload cargo by the light of a full moon. _Routine._

Wending through the roiling sea of people, having lost Shizune somewhere along the way, Ibiki stopped to snatch a cigar off a desk nearest the front door; this too had become part of his routine.  At first, it seemed the wizened, balding man behind the desk hadn’t noticed the blatant theft, too occupied was he in sorting through a small mound of paperwork.  But without warning, the older man lazily slapped away the hand hovering over a small box of matches before Ibiki could grab them as well.

“You’ll have to be a mite faster than that Ibiki,” he chuckled.  “Besides, I thought you and tobacco parted ways some time ago.”

“Ryota, a fine cigar, that’s been dipped in cognac, is a necessary evil for me,” Ibiki said. “And a successfully pilfered, fine cigar that’s been dipped in cognac, tastes a thousand times sweeter.  You wouldn’t understand old-timer; I have a love/hate relationship with tobacco, almost like the one you have with doing paperwork.”

Takenaka Ryota – this man had been a constable since Ibiki was in knee-britches; he’d trained just about everyone in this squad room, Ibiki included.  Because of his keen, analytical mind, no nonsense disposition and exceptional leadership skills, he was sought after to fill the post of Commandant each time the position was vacated; he chose instead to remain as commander of the watch that he might share his wisdom and experience with each new generation of law enforcement personnel.   Over the years, he became a confidante, a mentor and an unstoppable fount of encouragement when the pressures of the job became too great and one who wouldn’t hesitate to give him a swift kick in the pants.

“You’ll get the matches, as soon as I get your signature on these,” he said, fanning out several documents before Ibiki. “And if you do it without grumbling, I’ll give you some ginger candy to settle your stomach.”

It felt good to laugh, for Ibiki had little time to do that sort of thing over the last few days.  “How could I resist, especially when you phrase it as a bribe?”  Just as he was about to sign another overtime request, someone bumped into him from behind. Given the amount of people in this place, that wasn’t surprising; but this was no accident. He turned to see Hagane Kotetsu high-tailing it out the front door.  A curious glance to the left and there stood Genma speaking with Umino and Kamizuki near the seating area in the middle of the room.   _Probably giving them directions to the Fire Temple_ , he thought.  “Ryota …  see those men talking with Shiranui over there?”

“Yeah … what about ‘em?”

“Assign a team to keep an eye on them.”  With two pieces of candied ginger and the match box now in his possession, he leaned closer.  “I want to know where they go and what they do from the time they walk out of here until the time they leave the territory.  Understood?”

“Wait a minute, I was the one who took them to your office this morning ... they seemed okay to me.   What do you think they’re up to?”

Ibiki shook his head.  “Not sure … just keep ‘em under surveillance until I say different.  Got a meeting with the Governor--”

“There's a surprise. Just so you know, a civilian patrol found skeletal remains scattered in a forest clearing last night.  My guess is they belong to a hunter; poor bastard either dropped dead of natural causes or got mauled by a bear.  I sent Raidou and Aoba to investigate.”

“Hmm . . .” Ibiki murmured rolling the tip of the appropriated cigar over his tongue. “Do me a favor, pull up the--”

“Way ahead of you.   I’ve got every missing person report filed since January of last year right here,” he said pointing to a thick manila folder.

“Good …. but mums the word.  Governor’s gonna be all over me like ugly on a gorilla about the Hyuga girl, I don’t need any more rumors flying around--”

“Got it; in the meantime, I suggest you get over to the Administrative complex on the double.  Our Governor isn’t a patient woman and I’m sure you don’t want her to come looking for you.”  Sorting the signed documents into smaller piles, Ryota inclined his head toward the weeping grandmother.  “Oh, and if you’re looking for your escort, she’s standing over there.”

After catching her attention with a wave of his hand, Shizune gave the old woman a warm hug and hastened toward him. “That poor lady,” she said as Ibiki grabbed her by the elbow and guided her toward the door.  “It’s just so sad.”

“That grandson of hers needs to dance to the tune of a hickory switch a couple of times -- that oughta straighten him out.”  Chucking the matchbox at Ryota’s head, he called, “Thanks again old man."

The smell of sulfur made his nose twitch and the tiny puff of smoke blowing back into his face made his eye water a happy tear. Thick blue grey smoke danced around on his tongue with that first inhalation, delivering a jolt of nicotine, soon he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.  He heard himself give an involuntary sigh of content despite the disapproving look in Shizune’s eyes as he emerged from a columbine haze.

“If you need a few more minutes to unwind,” she said gesturing to his cigar and the dissipating brume around him, “I don’t mind waiting.”  She stood apace as he hurriedly puffed away.  “Lady Tsunade understands how busy your morning’s been and I’m certain she won’t fuss too much if we--”

“Tempting, but I’d rather get this over with as soon as possible.”

The people milling about in the plaza parted before them as they walked, many bowing their heads in deference to Shizune; the sad eyed smiles or angry glowers were reserved for and directed at him – again, this was another facet of normalcy.

“By the way, Hitomi’s father and his lawyers have already met with the Governor this morning.”

Ibiki rolled his eyes and took another long drag.

Having arrived at the Administrative complex sooner than he wanted to, he leaned against the building with a weary sigh, stubbing out his cigar against the bottom of his boot and tucking it away in between two widely spaced bricks.

In contrast to the noisy constabulary and the lively plaza, once they stepped inside the interior double doors and into the foyer of the Administrative offices, the place was as quiet as a tomb.  It smelled fresh in here too; the fragrance of frankincense still loitering in the air, weaving a lattice of tranquility long after the monks had given their daily blessing upon this office.

He’d traversed the glossy inlaid floor bearing Konoha’s seal -- a spreading sugi tree, with such frequency these last few months that he could almost feel where each bough of the tree bifurcated under the soles of his boots. To the right was an area, a small museum really, which housed artifacts, relics and brief historical sketches of Konoha’s progress through the years; this was the place where dignitaries were entertained as they waited to meet with the Governor.  Portraits of the men who established and settled the territory hung from mahogany paneled walls, each of them smiling down on the plush leather upholstered chairs and the hand loomed carpets of silken threads that overspread sections of freshly waxed cedar floors.

On the left side of the space was a large seating area for the public; it’s surprisingly comfortable wooden chairs neatly organized in a semicircle, providing room for people to congregate and chew the fat while they waited to file or receive copies of vital records. Large, terracotta pots filled with indigenous plants, wildflowers and dwarf trees were arranged before floor to ceiling windows that opened onto the plaza.

Straight ahead, a massive orbicular reception and hospitality desk separated the accommodation areas from the great hall and the Governor’s private suite of offices.  Of the five clerks assisting the people, all but one of them turned their backs as he approached – only the robust, oily faced woman smiled benevolently when she caught his eye.  This too was something that shaped the routine of these past months.

Deftly steering him away from the sharp clucking tongues of the clerks, Shizune ushered him into a conference room beside the reception area.  This room, with its knotted pine walls was usually where he spent his time, watching Lady Tsunade pace alongside the conference table, listening to her curse up a storm over his inability to collar a killer even as tears streamed down her cheeks.

But when Ibiki moved to take his customary seat, Shizune waved him off. “Oh, no, no Inspector, Lady Tsunade wishes to speak with you in her office.”

_Crap, that wasn’t a good sign._

The Governor’s private office was where the rich and powerful met to broker agreements, sign concords of peace or trade agreements between nations and exchange meaningless blandishments over premium sake and rich food. The last time he was in there was the day of his appointment as Chief Inspector; how fitting to end his career in the same place it began.

“That you, Ibiki?  Come on in,” he heard the Governor say in response to Shizune’s rap on the door.

She had her back to them when they walked in and Ibiki was stunned to see her looking like this.  Long blonde hair tumbled in loose waves down the back of a forest green haori; it was usually piled high on her head and held in place by ornately lacquered pins.  The black hakama and the low-heeled slippers she wore meant either there were no official events on her calendar today, or she’d been roused from her bed in much the same way he’d been.  She turned to face him with a cheerful smile, not the scowl he expected, a small book in her hand and a pince-nez resting on her nose.  She almost looked pleased to see him.

_That had to be a bad omen._

A light dusting of rouge tinted impossibly high cheekbones, her eyes, bright and saffron yellow twinkled above flawless, smooth skin, ecru in color like raw silk.  Hard to believe the woman he was looking at was rumored to be in her mid-fifties.  Tall and not as willowy as her assistant, still she cut a figure envied by women half her age.

“Morning ma’am.”

“Hope you’re hungry …I ordered a massive breakfast from one of the inns. Shizune, be a dear, and fetch it please.  Have a seat Ibiki.”

Unsure what to make of this gracious welcome, he did as instructed, warily sitting on the edge of a plump cushioned chair.

Her glasses swung from a sterling silver and ebony brooch as she walked toward him. “Can’t imagine your day started any better than mine did; had to deal with Hyuga Hiashi and his solicitors first thing … you know how much fun that usually is.  They left about half an hour ago, outraged of course,” she said, taking the seat across from him.  "Wanted your resignation or failing that … your head on a pike.  Tea?”

“Yes, please,” he laughed.  “Can’t say I’m surprised, ma’am.”

“Underneath the righteous indignation, Hiashi was disconsolate; blames himself more than you for what happened.”

There was another light rap at the door before Shizune entered with a silver tray weighed down with several small dishes and another pot of tea.  She gave Ibiki one of her encouraging smiles and an extra helping of steamed rice before quietly exiting.

“So, you and your men, how are you holding up?”

“Rather well, thank you, ma’am.”

“Liar ... you look like you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet, Ibiki,” she joshed gathering up a helping of tarako with ivory chopsticks.  “The only criminal activities your men encounter are pickpockets and scam artists during the festivals, and the only violence they see comes from breaking up fights in the watering holes near the docks.”

Cupping a small soup bowl under her nose, she inhaled deeply and sighed. “And then there’s the occasional disturbance at the cathouse . . .  err, pardon me, the boarding house,” she said, lowering the bowl and reaching for a spoon. A sip of creamy miso soup elicited a groan of delight.  “That’s about as politically sticky as anything they’re accustomed to, am I right?”  

Ibiki nodded.

“And we both know why the ‘cathouse catalogs’, aren’t included in official police blotters, don’t we?”

“The boarding house generates substantial revenue,” he said around a mouthful of omelet.  “Most of that income is from the arrangement of liaisons for visiting dignitaries and some of Konoha’s upstanding and very married men.”

The ceramic spoon came to rest atop the nearly empty soup bowl. Rising from the table, she walked back to her desk. “I know you, Ibiki … you’d lay down your life for the people of this territory if a situation called for it.”  When she turned to face him again, she held the little book tightly in her hands.  “I know you’ll leave no stone unturned to find the man responsible but--”

“I’m grateful you let me keep my job and my head, but I’m most appreciative of your impeccable timing …  drew me out of three very exasperating situations it did.”

“Is that so?  Keeping you and Hiashi separated was one,” she said draping her napkin over her lap, “and the other two were--?”

“Being talked to death by the Coroner and getting me out of a maddening meeting with three young men.  They just arrived in the territory last night …seemed intent on frittering away my time with tall tales and an ancient picture book.”

“Typical for murder morn,” she said flipping pages in her own book beside her plate.   “At least tell me you’ve developed some leads on our murderer.”

“Nothing solid yet ma’am, however, we did find skeletal remains in the forest last night and I--”

“Damn,” she said, slamming the book closed.  “Now we have nine victims?”

“Nah … probably an unfortunate hunter.  Once Genma’s finished his bit, I’ll give you a definite answer.”

**Recherché**

_They know how important this meeting is,_ thought an anxious Iruka as he sat in the waiting area near the reception desk. _Hope they’ll forgive me for abandoning them to Genma._

"Next,” called the robust clerk.

He flashed a winning smile as he handed over the envelope. “Not sure what the protocol is, but I’d like to see the Governor as soon as possible, please.   I assume this will be sufficient.”

“One moment sir.”  She stepped away from the counter and called over another clerk; Iruka strained to hear their conversation.  After a few exchanged nods and whispers, she returned saying, “Well . . . this is definitely the Governor’s stationery and signature.  Unfortunately, her schedule is rather hectic for the remainder of this week.  Might you be available to take a meeting with her next week, Mr. err, Dr. Umino?"

“No … that simply won’t do,” he insisted. “This is a matter of grave import--”

“Perhaps you’d like to speak with her assistant then?”

 

Notes:

Welkin: the sky; the vault of heaven.

Voluble:  characterized by a ready and continuous flow of words; talkative.

Fallacious:  logically unsound.

Flotsam and jetsam: specific kinds of shipwreck – flotsam, floating wreckage of a ship or its cargo; jetsam – part of a ship, its equipment or cargo, purposely thrown overboard to lighten the load in times of distress and washed ashore.

Wending: (archaic) – to proceed or go.

Chit:  a signed note for money owed to the bearer of the note.

Appetence: intense desire.

Intendment: intention.

Columbine: dove colored; grey.

Brume: fog or mist.

Bifurcate:  to divide or fork into two branches.

Orbicular:  circular, ring like, spherical.

Pince-nez:  a style of glasses supported without earpieces by pinching the bridge of the nose.  Uncomfortable to wear for long periods of time, they were usually suspended by a ribbon or chain around the neck.  Women made use of a brooch-like device pinned to their clothing which would automatically retract the line to which the glasses were attached when not in use.  

Tarako: a salted roe derived from cod, usually enjoyed with breakfast.

 


	5. Recherché: Into the Depths

Sounds of renovation, the _squeal_ of pry bars yanking rusty nails from large wooden crates, the _shush_ of rip saws biting into dense cedar and the voices of servants directing workmen from room to room; these were muted now as a tall olive-skinned man descended steep slate stairs into the belly of the stately manor.  Yellow candlelight weakly flickers against the heavy darkness; nervous fingers seek out gorges in the stone walls to balance himself as the staircase narrows at its junction with the floor of the subterranean vault.

The news he’d just received ... urgent and extremely unpleasant; it fell to him to inform the Master.

Disturbing a numen at rest carried significant risk; his master, a violent being, derived pleasure by inflicting unspeakable acts of cruelty upon those who dared interrupt his daily routine.  Were he to wake him now, so soon after he’d taken his bed, odds were great he’d be splayed open from neck to navel in the span of a breath.  Were he to wait until the master stirred of his own volition, a severe beating was his due for delaying news of great import.

His hands violently shook with every step bringing him closer to the antechamber, his heart, thrumming against a heaving rib cage and pearls of perspiration turned into rivulets of sweat running alongside his ears.  He set down the lantern, afeared he’d drop it and lose the only light source available.  Flattening down thick, dark brown hair with sweaty palms, he took a breath and pulled together the fleeing oddments of his courage.

Cautious steps move him closer to where his master lay.  Ignoring the pain as the thin wire handle of the lantern cut into his palm, he measured each breath as though it might be his last; a nudge of the shoulder pushed the solid wooden door ajar, its hinges faintly groaning. Soft leather soles glide across limestone slates as Kinoe approached the raised platform in the center of the room.

The resting place of his master, a pyramidal structure of finest Cryptomeria, was widest at its base with three broad steps leading up to the bed itself; leaving the lantern beside the bullnose, Kinoe cautiously stood on the first tread.  By the time he reached the second tread, his body quaked in fear – here he knelt, bowed his head in submission and rapped his knuckles against the riser beneath the bed’s frame.

“My lord,” he said quietly.  “I have exigent news.”

The master shifted slightly at the sound of his voice, but did not awaken.  Kinoe thought to rap once more when out of the blue, cold, powerful fingers wrapped themselves around his throat, lifting him upward until the tips of his toes bumped against the first riser, pulling him closer to the side of the bed and squeezing the breath from him.

A voice, deep and menacing rumbled through the stagnant air:

“Damn well better be, Kinoe.”

Almond shaped eyes widened in fear. “Master,” he choked out.  “Umino and his cohorts arrived . . . last night . . . they took a meeting . . . with Inspector Morino first thing..” At once, the hand around his throat was gone and Kinoe was sailing through the air – his back crashing against the stone wall to the right of the master’s bed.

“Have Maito track their every step,” he heard the master say over the pain wracking his battered body.  “I want a thorough account of their movements when I awake.”

Scrabbling to his knees, his vision swimming, and his breathing labored, “Yes master,” he whispered.  “I will see to it at once.”

As he crawled backward, the sound of the master’s laughter rose above him, echoing fetid and noxious throughout the chamber.

“Excellent.   

Let us hope the younger Umino proves a greater challenge than his father was, Kinoe.”

**Recherché**

Ill tidings fly swifter than the swallows and it seemed to him, everyone in the territory could speak of nothing aside from the plucky heiress who met an untimely and tragic end.  Not surprising then, was the speed at which the summons came. Fully aware the Master’s state of mind grew more volatile as the sun ascended, Maito bounded through the forests; a blur of black and green as he hastened through the groves. 

Almost as soon as he walked through the front door, workaday conversation in the grand hall hung in the air -- suspended in mid syllable; every head turned, and every eye fastened upon him.  When he cocked his head to the left and then to the right, he could hear the bowels of the burly workmen seizing up -- the smell of fear so thick, it flavored the atmosphere like a pungent bouquet of sweat and pheromones. 

 _Humans_ , he thought with a smile, _so easily frightened . . ._

_so quickly tantalized by that which they do not understand._

A sly smile from him, so wide and inviting, sent an audible rush of relief through the entrance way where he stood; arms akimbo, he countenanced the furtive glances, drank in equal parts of their attraction and reveled in their repulsion.  Many of the assembled navvies roused themselves from stupor, pretending to carry on with their assigned tasks while some moistened dry lips with a swipe of their turgid tongues.  A jaunty nod of his head meant the show was over and he strutted through the horde of hirelings.     The drawing room at the end of the hall was where he’d been summoned and it was there he focused the whole of his attention.  Making his way down the hall, household servants scurried away like cockroaches, pressing themselves against the walls as he passed them; bowing low and shielding their eyes as they’d been taught.

 “Hey Takumi,” whispered one of the workmen when he thought Maito was out of earshot, “reckon that’s the Master of the manor?”

“Don’t know, don’t care and since neither of us is getting paid to stand around gawking at rich folks . . . here,” he said, pressing a spud bar into his friend’s hand.  “Make yourself useful.”

But the younger man’s eyes remained fastened to Maito’s retreating back.  “The only men I know of that are taller and broader than him are millwrights.”

“So what?”

“He’s odd lookin,’ don’t you think?  And did you see his teeth? Quite a set of choppers on him; whiter than white they were, and sharp . . . like he could skin you alive with ‘em.   And those eyebrows. . . damn near covered half his forehead!”

The crowbar’s pinch point slipped under a rusty nail with a squeal and above the skin-crawling noise, everyone, including the man under scrutiny heard him say:

“I tell ya, that guy looks like a rabid wolf.”

Suddenly, Maito stopped in his tracks; the sensation of eyes darting between him and the obtuse workman almost tangible.  Taking mental note of the braggart’s name, he stored away the memory of his smell for future recall.  Though everything in him demanded he turn and rip the smaller man asunder, he denied the insistence of his instincts; couldn’t afford another slip up so soon.

“I swear, Hiroaki, you haven’t got half the brains of a termite,” hissed the man on the other side of the crate. “You insulted that man and I know damn well he heard what you said, fool!  And if he were to come for you,” he said, slipping the claw hammer in his pants pocket, “you’d piss yourself.”

 “Yeah, he’d be yipping like a little mutt,” said another workman who’d sidled up beside the young man.  “What’s the matter,” he laughed, chuckling the other man’s chin, “aint you ever seen what years of inbreeding looks like?”

From around the corner, the two jesting men heard the rapid footsteps of the foreman and moved away quickly.   

“Knock it off you lack wits,” snapped the irritated overseer as his beefy fist bounced off the young man's head. “That'll learn ya to keep your big mouth shut Hiroaki. The rest of you louts . . . get back to work!”

 _Ah yes,_ Maito thought.  _If the Master allows,_

_you’ll make quite the delicious amuse-bouche . . .  Hiroaki._

 

Notes:

 Cryptomeria [japonica]:  a conifer in the cypress family; endemic to Japan where it is known as sugi.  A large evergreen tree, with spirally arranged leaves (needle-like) and globular seed cones; superficially similar to Giant Sequoia.

Oddment: an odd article, bit or remnant.

Exigent:  requiring immediate action or aid; urgent, pressing.

Bullnose:  where steps are open on one or both sides.

Tread:horizontal part of a stairway that is stepped on.

Riser:  vertical part of a stairway between each tread.

Numen:  a deity, especially one presiding locally.

Navvy: an unskilled, manual laborer.

Hireling: a person who works only for pay, especially in a menial or boring job, with little or no concern for the value of the work.

Spud bar:  crowbar.  

Hiroaki: “Widespread brightness”.

Takumi: “Artisan.”

Amuse-bouche (French):  to ‘amuse the mouth.’ It’s a bite-sized portion of food to stimulate the appetite before a meal or to clear the palate between courses of a large meal.                      


	6. Recherché: Gather Round

 Miles from a bustling town plaza and worlds apart from the malodorous constable’s den, this scenic shortcut was everything Genma promised.  Shielded by a canopy of dragon’s blood red maple trees, dappled sunlight played leapfrog at their feet over the hardened yellow clay path leading to the temple.  Creeping ground cover swayed under the weight of pollen laden bees.  The steeper the incline, the headier the perfume of shrubbery blooming out of their seasons – jasmine, heliotrope, sweet alyssum and loquat trees.  A pity . . . for this place, a balm for the weary soul and a delight for the senses, was going to waste; the one man best able to appreciate its ambiance, was probably sitting in a meeting with the Governor.  Sandwiched between the multiloquent mortician pointing out the cultural significance of every pebble, plant and paving stone along the way, and the choleric Kotetsu, who’d taken to mumbling humorously creative curse words under his breath, Izumo was hard pressed to keep a smile on his lips and his own temper in check.

And at the rate things were going, the urge to turn back after throttling both of them was becoming harder to resist.

“Mr. Shiranui,” he said, praying his tone wouldn’t give away the irritation he felt, “we appreciate the time you’ve set aside to accompany us to the temple but--”

“Think nothing of it and please, call me Genma,” he huffed, putting more distance between them.  “Had to go to the temple anyway . . . huge wake tonight, huge funeral tomorrow you know.  Have to . . . finalize arrangements with the priest and monks, make sure the altar’s prepared – things like that.  I’ll bet you gents didn’t know the work of an undertaker was so complex . . . oh, that reminds me, I have to get back to the morgue before noon, so I’m afraid I won’t be accompanying you back to town . . . coffin delivery and a nōkan to perform--.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it . . . a red-letter day for you,” Kotetsu sniped. “How much longer before we get there?”

"Quarter of a mile I reckon, we’re almost at the crest of the hill. Don’t tell me, a strapping young buck like you can’t keep up with an old man like me?”

Izumo felt his friend bristle beside him and from the corner of his eye, he saw him open his mouth to say something churlish.  Mercifully, Genma was quicker on the draw.

“My apologies, we could’ve made better time on horseback; unfortunately, the only stables nearby belong to the constables and they frown on hiring out their mounts to civilians.”

“Not a problem, a brisk walk in the fresh air will do us good,” Izumo assured him.  

“Well let me know if you gents need to stop and catch your breath.  Meanwhile, if you look to your left, that stone lantern over there was a gift from the Land of Earth I think.”

As their nescient cicerone moved up the path, Izumo nudged his friend in the ribs drawing his attention to a brace of colorful waterfowl zigzagging their way through the bulrushes and sword ferns near shallow ponds.  Soon, they formed a cluster of shiny orange and black beaks and flapping feathers as they waddled closer to the winding footpath.

It took a few minutes before Genma realized they weren’t walking behind him, and when he turned about he chuckled saying, “Don’t mind them.  Those little buggers are used to getting handouts from the pilgrims along this path.  Once they realize you have no bread fragments or sweet corn kernels to give them, they’ll quiet down and leave you alone.  Now, let me direct your attention to--”

“Humph, wonder what it will take to make _him_ quiet down and leave us alone?"

A shared, guilty snicker rippled between the two young men.  “’Cut it out Tetsu, we’re being rude to our host.”

“Like he cares.  We’ve hardly gotten a word in edgewise since we left the constable’s office, you think he’s paying attention to us now?  I say we ditch him Zumo."

“I think that unwise.” Holding up his hands to forestall interruption he added, “Consider this, we show up on law enforcement’s doorstep the very morning a high-profile murder victim was discovered and we didn’t exactly keep it secret that we have information about the killer terrorizing these people. You saw how well that sat with Inspector Morino--”

“And this is why I hate involving the police.”  Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, lukewarm hostility tinged Kotetsu's voice. “We always end up being scrutinized and spied on.  Why can’t they see we’re trying to help them?”

“How well did we understand upon first hearing such things?”

The look of exasperation slowly slid off his face though his body was still wound tighter than a spool of silk thread.  “Yeah . . . well, Iruka’s father had lost most of his marbles toward the end, and this hoo-hah about gaki and stuff like that did sound ridiculous--”

“Of course it did, Tetsu.”  He threw an arm around his friend's shoulder and pulled him close.  "Try to understand, the people living here are paranoid, practically jumping at their own shadows and the police are walking around in circles, looking for a scapegoat to parade before the people.  If we ‘ditch’ Genma, you can bet he’ll report everything we’ve said and done to the Inspector in excruciating detail; that would make us look even more suspicious to the police.” He stepped back and looked his friend in the eyes, “We already stick out like two sore thumbs around here . . .  well, you more so than me; two rakishly handsome young men, all gussied up in tailored suits surrounded by kimonos, hakama and pushcarts.  For now, it's in our best interests to lay low and follow Iruka’s lead like we promised.”  Watching the fat little ducks come closer as they stood on the stair, Izumo reached into his pocket, pretending to throw a fistful of nothing toward them.

“Now what are you doing?”

“Just watch.” The knot of ducks instantly scattered when Izumo's arm dropped to his side; each of them scrambling for a morsel of the imaginary treats.   They all gave up at the same time; once reassembled they quacked louder as they boldly drew close to the two men.  “See that?  To you and me, that loudmouth mortician’s a nuisance,” Izumo said, “but Genma’s like these ducks; fat, happy and stuffed full of confidential information. He’ll quack louder and struggle to keep us close on the off chance of getting a ‘treat’ like learning of our plans before the time is right. All we have to do is throw bits of general information his way."  The twinkle in Kotetsu's eyes let him know that he understood.  “If we keep his little brain occupied, he might give us something we can use.”

“Zumo this is going to take forever--”

“I don't think so, he’s a blabbermouth. In the meantime, settle down and stay focused. We promised Iruka we'd move at his pace, and we’re going to stick to the plan,” he said, as he further invaded Kotetsu’s space.   “We mobilize on Iruka’s say so, not a moment sooner.  We clear?”

“I’m not stupid! I’m just saying, I can’t believe Iruka ran off and left us with this insufferable gasbag!”

“Shush, he’ll hear you!”

“Please, the man loves the sound of his own voice too much, he still hasn’t realized we’re not walking behind him anymore.  What a jackass!”

Another intentional and very sharp poke to the ribs doubled Kotetsu over this time, sending the ducks squawking and flapping when he stumbled off the path.

“Oi,” Genma turned and said.  “You alright back there Kotetsu?”

“Yes, he’s well,” Izumo volunteered.  “I assure you, he usually isn’t this clumsy.”

An extended hand was pushed away by the angry out of breath Kotetsu who glared daggers at his friend.

“Of course, almost forgotten about your long time at sea. You two probably didn’t get much sleep last night either, considering the last passenger ship didn’t disembark until well after midnight.  You were on _that_ ship, right?”

“Yes, you're right, the journey has finally caught up with us.  Not to worry Genma, he’ll be fine, won’t you Kotetsu?”

 

Notes:

Multiloquent **:** speaking much, very talkative; loquacious.

Choleric **:** extremely irritable or easily angered.

Nescient: unknowing.

Cicerone:  tour guide; leader of a sightseeing tour.

Nōkan **:** a funeral ritual; the body is washed and the orifices blocked with cotton or gauze.  The mortician wraps the body, and dresses it; in Hitomi’s case, she’ll be clothed in a white kimono.  The body is then placed on dry ice inside the coffin and certain items like a pair of sandals, another white kimono and six coins for crossing the River of Three Crossings are placed in the coffin as well.  The body is normally arranged with its head toward the north, or as a secondary choice, toward the west.  In Buddhism, the western orientation reflects the western realm of Amida Buddha.


	7. Recherché: Wheels in Motion

“When was the last time we shared a quiet breakfast Ibiki?”  

“Never,” he said without thinking.  “Ma'am I know you didn’t ask me here just to watch me chew so, let’s have it.”

“Promise to hear me out,” she asked, laying aside her chopsticks, “no back answers, alright?”  

“Fine.”

Tsunade leaned back in her seat, her arms draped over the plump bolsters.  “After the third murder, I took a meeting with some of our elderly residents … to calm their fears, that sort of thing.”  

“Yes ... and?”

“The way they told it, this isn't the Fire Country was targeted by a killer exhibiting the same characteristics as the one we’re looking for now.  All the victims were young women, their bodies drained of blood, abandoned out in the open and no clues left behind. This pattern would continue with the rise of every full moon for about a year, and then suddenly it would stop.”

“News to me.  I don’t remember reading accounts of anything like that--”

“Great Tsunami of 1771 destroyed most of the town and it’s records.  Back then, most people lived in the countryside and those who inhabited the town proper were transients, here to learn a trade … it was a horrendous loss. What’s known of that time came from the retelling of tales from those who survived.”

Ibiki pushed away his plate, his eyes riveted to hers.   “Would you have me believe we’re dealing with a copycat killer or are you suggesting our murderer is some decrepit old man?”

“Don’t be ridiculous … oh, you’ve finished already? I’ll take that last onigiri if you don’t mind.”

He watched her eyes light up when she plunked a triangular chunk of rice from the communal plate onto hers. “Lady Tsunade, it’s a waste of time getting riled up over the ravings of the senile or otherwise mentally deficient--”

“That’s what I thought too, at first.” Giving the onigiri captured between her chopsticks a delicate sniff, she popped it into her mouth; immediately, the tiny space between her eyebrows wrinkled with disgust.  Frantically seeking a discreet way to dispose of the offending food, she inelegantly spat it into a napkin of ivory linen.  “Umeboshi,” she spluttered reaching for a glass of water.   “Yes, well … after that meeting, I tried not to think about what they told me." As she was speaking, her left hand slowly moved upward, her fingers absentmindedly caressing the Manju-netsuke that hung from an exquisite jade necklace.  “However, after the fourth murder I realized I needed to conduct my own research.  You know, I remember when my grandfather used to tell me stories of bizarre happenings in this land; used to think they were fanciful retellings of folklore to frighten impressionable children.”

Ibiki heard those same stories as he sat on his grandmother’s lap.  They were tales of imps and hobgoblins that played tricks on unsuspecting humans, these angry spirits often destroyed crops or made away with livestock.    _“Retribution for those who dared defile this land by building factories on sacred ground,”_ his grandmother used to say.  “All we need do is increase the number of patrols during the full moon, Lady Tsunade.  I know we can apprehend this fiend--”

“If our killer were a deranged human, then yes, I believe you would have apprehended him before now.”  Still stroking at the pendant, her eyes took on a hazy appearance.  “I found several scrolls chronicling life during my ancestor's time ... they all bore witness to the truth of the elder’s stories.” When she spoke again, her voice sounded as if she were far away.  “By the light of a full moon, Senju Hisao and a group of men were hunting in the forest when they happened upon a ‘creature’ in the clearing.  This being and seven other ghostly apparitions were engaged in a ritual sacrifice or so it seemed to them.” She bowed her head suddenly, as if whispering a prayer; her hand covered her mouth as if holding back a curse.

He’d never seen her like this before; pale and trembling as if her words had the power to make manifest these beings of antiquity.

“Before they could get closer to the scene, a pack of wolves appeared out of the mist and chased them from the forest. Those wolves,” she whispered, “were taller and broader than full grown men.” Finally breaking free of discomposure, she added, “Strange days are these Ibiki.  Konoha stands at a crossroads.  Though we strive for modernity, we’re chained to the past by something older than the land itself.”  Her palms crashed against the table suddenly, catching Ibiki off guard. “We have to take extraordinary measures to purge the land of this evil.”

“So, are you suggesting we have the priest and monks ‘exorcise’ the territory?”

“Not exactly.  I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve sent for an expert ... a 'demon hunter' if you will; practically begged him to come help us.”

“Why would you do that, ma’am? Have you no confidence in me or my constables?”

“Ibiki, I trust you implicitly--”

“Poppycock!  If you trusted me at all you wouldn’t have--”

“Mind your tone, Ibiki, besides … I can’t undo what’s been done. Dr. Umino Tadashi will be arriving in Konoha any day now and I want you to be present when I meet with him. You’ll need to keep an open mind--”

“Umino, you say?  He’s dead, Lady Tsunade.”

 “What? She lurched forward in the chair, "Who told you that?”

“He did, well … I mean, his son did.  Umino, such an odd surname around these parts ... I have to assume they’re related--”

“His son?”

“Yes, ma’am.   Umino Iruka was one of the three young men I met with this morning; said his father died in May of this year.”

“My word ... I received Tadashi’s response to my letter in April.  Of all the rotten luck,” she said, sinking back into her seat with a sigh, “here I was, pinning my hopes on his advice and guidance--”

“As I’ve said, we don’t need a ‘demon hunter--”

“Well if he’s dead now . . . that’s a problem.” Once again, her fingers found and rubbed at the netsuke.

“How is it you know of these people ma’am?”

“Don’t you remember?  Hmm … maybe not, you might have been in the military back then.  Dr. Umino worked at our hospital for years; his wife was a clerk in the old Admin center.”

“Won't have known him anyway, my mother and grandmother were the family's doctors.  Based on what I heard today, I just assumed they were simple Water Country folk.”

“A small family, the Umino’s ...two of the brothers married into the Shimizu clan; Tadashi and his brother studied medicine in Water Country and moved here for advanced training … their sons were born in Konoha.”

 _No wonder I couldn’t pinpoint the dialect,_ he thought. _It's a mishmash of language from Water and Fire countries._

“In those days, Japanese medical students flocked to England to learn new techniques, unfortunately, they didn’t have enough translators for their textbooks or teachers for the classroom, so Koichi, the elder brother, accepted a position in London, or was it Cornwall?  I can’t remember now,” she said.  “Tadashi and his family went to live with Koichi a few years later.   My aunt and Tadashi’s wife Amaya, were good friends ... they maintained correspondence for years.”  

_And that explains why his accent was so strong; he received the bulk of his education abroad._

“Last time I saw Iruka, he was about five or six years old.  Painfully shy, very mannerable, chubby cheeks and a big smile,” she said.wistfully.   “Shame he couldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps as a doctor; didn’t have an interest in biology or the stomach for the blood and guts of anatomical dissection, I’m told.  At some point, Tadashi developed a close friendship with a man named Yamada Kenichi, a teacher of philosophy and a student of ancient religions and the supernatural.  Tadashi was something of a detective, an authority on things that go bump in the night.”

Ibiki rolled his eyes and huffed, “Lady Tsunade, I fail to see how any of this information pertains to our current situation--”

“Part of my research led me to a box filled with my aunt’s old letters, its what prompted me to contact Tadashi in the first place.”

Shifting about in his seat, Ibiki tried to keep his expression bland, and his eyes open; the combination of a rest broken night, a big breakfast and the Governor’s historical ruminations were easing him into a cozy kef.

“After Mr. Yamada died, Tadashi took up his research, became obsessed with it, he did; some, including his wife, said he’d gone quite mad. He spent the last fifteen years of her life tracking down a killer like the one roaming about Konoha now.  The last letter I found informed my aunt of his wife’s passing.”  

Ibiki straightened in his seat at that.   _How could the same murderer be in two places, a continent and an ocean apart at the same time?   "_ I hope you’ll pardon me but, this talk of ghosts and weird creatures is something I can’t stomach.”

“What? Inspector ‘I’ve seen everything and nothing rattles me,’ Morino, is jelly-legged about the supernatural? That’s rich.” Toying with the lump of rice hidden inside her napkin, she went on to say, “I understand something like this is hard for a logical mind like yours to take in and process, but I've a feeling Iruka and the book he has will be quite informative.   If nothing else, we can get a good laugh from it.   Now, what I need you to do is find out where he’s staying... we’ll set up a meeting and talk things over--”

“There’s nothing to discuss, ma’am.  Be it known right now, I want nothing to do with this foolishness!”

Suddenly, her face flushed and her eyes angrily narrowed when she stood. “It doesn’t matter what you want or what you’re comfortable with.  We’ve eight murders and no suspect in custody; traditional methods of investigation have failed us.  You will do as I’ve asked, Ibiki and that ends our discussion.” Stiffly nodding her head toward him, she added: “Good day, Inspector.”

Rising deliberately, he curtly bowed, his eyes icily locked on hers. “Thank you for breakfast . . . ma’am,” he said, before turning on his heel.

Once outside the complex, he retrieved his cigar and bit down hard on its tip.

_Has everyone except me, lost their damn mind?_

_Demon hunters . . .  exorcists . . . the writings of two crazy old men taking precedence over reason and sound police work!_

_What the hell’s this world coming to?_

When he strode toward his office, the people parted before him again, this time in fear; he looked as if he’d snap the neck of the next person who dared speak or even look his way.  Veering toward the stables behind the constabulary, angry, confused and stung by what he perceived as betrayal, he snapped in the direction of the hapless stable master who’d come to greet him.

“Saddle up my mount,” he said gruffly, flinging a chit toward the man.  “I want him outside the front door of the constabulary and ready to go in five minutes. Got it?”

Thankfully, the squad room was somewhat empty, save for a few patrols handing in their reports; they had the good sense to lower their voices and step away from him as he approached the watch commander’s desk.

“Ryota,” he said, snatching up the matchbox.  “Where were those bones found this morning?”

"Guess I don’t need to ask how your meeting with the Governor went."A side drawer squeaked open and before Ibiki could draw in the first puff of a fresh cigar, Ryota was spreading a map of the town across his desk. “Here,” he said pointing to an area of the forest west of the lumber mill.  “The bones were collected and delivered to Genma’s office about ten minutes ago.”

“The three young men that were in here earlier," he ground out, "find out where they’re staying. Governor wants to meet with them as soon as possible.” 

“Inns are empty since the Tsukimi Festival was a bust. I’ll get that information to Miss Shizune personally,” he said refolding the map.

When next he looked up, Ibiki, the map, and his matchbox were gone; the sound of horseshoes clattering over cobblestones in the town square, was all he could hear.  

**Recherché**

After a brief meeting with the Governor’s assistant, Iruka returned to the inn.  Bolting the door, he covered the room in less than ten paces.   Retrieving the valise from underneath the bed, he knelt in silence letting his disappointment subside as the familiar aroma of pipe tobacco rose from deep inside the case. He found himself rubbing his hand across the smooth cool leather, fortifying the connection to his father’s spirit.

When he was able, he plopped down on the bed, separating the upper compartment of the valise from its lower half, revealing a small cache of weapons.  Knives and ancient talismans lay beside vials of water and holy oils blessed by the priests in England; they believed as he did, that demons walked among the living and they’d offered prayers on his behalf.  Next to them were notebooks written in his father’s cramped handwriting; the old man’s eyes, dimmed by sickness and his mind, inflamed with fever when he penned these notes. At the center of the valise was a scroll bound with leather straps – it contained Umino Tadashi’s final instructions and precautions for using the weaponry and the other tools of the trade.

By now was his vision distorted by tears which refused to fall; his hands trembling with rage as he unsheathed one of the knives.

“Father, I swore to avenge you and today, I reaffirm that promise.  As I come one step closer to fulfilling my purpose in this life, may your spirit guide me.”  His left hand swept over the talismans.  “I vowed on your grave to carve out the heart of his seed  as a tribute to you for the suffering experienced at his father's hands.”

The weight of the blade, comforting in his right hand; this was the very knife his father used when he struck down two members of the same family line Iruka now determined to bring to its end.

“Across foreign soil and one continent, I’ve tracked him down.  As you predicted, he’s returned to the land of his origin.  Here in Konoha will he take a bride and spawn a legion of demons more powerful than he ... but I’ll not allow that Father.”

At this point was his breathing was labored and he feared the same madness which brought his father to ruin, was staking its claim on him as well. His tight grip on the knife’s blade dug into his palm, the pain serving to strengthen his determination.  

“Father, grant me wisdom and cunning, for the life of your only son depends on it.”

A twist of the wrist and his reflection in the shining blade stunned him; his eyes were wide and wild as he brought the cutting edge to his lips. The kiss of cold steel and a trickle of warm blood filled his mouth as he spoke these words against the two-edged blade:

“I will not fail you Father, for this is my vow.”

NOTES:

Manju-netsuke:  Netsuke, miniature sculptures invented in 17th century Japan to serve a practical purpose; it was a carved button-like toggle used to prevent the contents of a pouch from spilling out.  A Manju-netsuke was thick and flat, with the carvings usually done in relief; they were sometimes composed of two ivory halves.  

Umeboshi: pickled plums, very sour and salty. 

Tadashi:correct, loyal, righteous **.**

Kenichi: strong, healthy, first son.

Yamada:  mountain rice field.

Kef **:** a state of drowsy contentment.

April 12, 1771, the Great Yaeyama Tsunami was triggered by an earthquake.

Koichi: “light/shining first child.”

Amaya: “night rain.”


	8. Recherché: What If?

Jarred from a trance like state by the noise of metal striking against stone, Iruka shot up, scanning the room for intruders; his hand frantically skidding across the mattress top as he caught his breath.

_Have they found me out already?  The envelope and valise … where are they?_

Bits and bobs of free-floating memories jumble together as the twilled cotton under his fingers gave way to the smooth surface of heavyweight paper.  His heart jumped in his chest - of course, he remembered now - meticulously returning the weapons to their places and tucking the valise under the bed before propping his head against sinfully soft pillows and stretching out.  

_My imagination is getting the better of me, even so, why the devil is there a handkerchief tied around my … oh, right,  Father's knife._

Leaning back against the headboard he comforted himself with the thought that this injury was another minor annoyance, a slight twist on the winding path he’d chosen.

 _Father used to say, ‘if ever a man desires to make the gods laugh, all_ _he need do is adhere to the plans his limited mind conceives’._ _Still, the hours behind me hadn’t been a complete waste._  

The meeting with the Chief Inspector went exactly as expected; quiet opposition, sprinkled with skeptical looks and a curt rebuff culminating in a terse dismissal.   Their planned survey of the cemetery deferred out of respect; even if preparations weren’t underway for a burial, a curious sexton would surely take notice of three strangers wandering about the graveyard.   And then of course, there was the intrusion of a fast talking, overly accommodating Coroner.  He rolled his eyes as an image of Genma surfaced in his mind. _Definitely a fly in the ointment._

But the gods did humor him, sending an angel in the form of a sympathetic clerk at the Administrative building.  Masuyo was her name, the cheerful, rotund woman, left her station at the reception desk and led him into the private office of the Governor’s assistant - there she interceded on his behalf, vouching for the authenticity of the letter he’d presented as proof of and the reason for his visit.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his forearms at rest atop his thighs.  

“The Chief Inspector is a hard nut to crack, unlikely to freely give up any information.  I’m counting on Izumo’s charm, he’ll make inroads with one of the higher ups in the constabulary.  That way we stay abreast of their investigation and keep them from interfering with our prime objective. Now then,” he sighed as he stood, “what to do about Kotetsu?  Lord love him, he’s quicker with his fists than his wits.”  He wandered over to the open window, peering through lace curtains at the forests just west of the inn.  “Yes, that will do nicely.  Need a proper base of operations anyway … somewhere far from the town center.  I’ll have him secure a small hunting lodge where he’ll be in his element and we can come and go without attracting undue attention.  Perfect.”

His hand was throbbing like mad when he flopped down on the edge of the mattress again.   _As for me,_ he thought pushing at the makeshift compress, _the Governor requested my father’s assistance.  Shouldn’t be hard to make her understand the reasons behind these murders and why I’m the only one who can stop them._   _Speaking of stopping things,_ _better attend to this first._   He tried not to gag while carefully unwrapping his hand. Bright red blood slowly pooled in the creases of his palm every time he flexed his fingers.   _Damn, that’s deep._ Shaking his head, he sucked in a breath, laughing at himself.  “The one person in our group made woozy at the sight of blood is the same one determined to reach inside a chest and remove a heart.”   Pocketing the cloth, he staggered to the bathroom.   _Before I can do that,_ _I’ll have to destroy his resting place and that means finding a way inside his lair._

Cold water splashing over his hand slowed the bleeding and he bit back a groan when the powdered alum burned into lacerated flesh.  “Not sure how things work here,” he said with a wince, “but in England, architects have to register copies of their blueprints with the office of land management. Assuming the old estate still stands, the information I need is over a hundred years old.”  Searing pain made him squeeze shut his eyes and when he opened them, the first thing he saw was the floor.  _Wood … that’s it!  They’ll have information about every domicile in the territory close to hand and I’m willing to bet they won’t question the validity of an official looking document!_  

Running from the bathroom, he grabbed his jacket from the chair side nearest the bed; tucking the envelope in an inner pocket, he cast a final glance about the room.  _All right then, all I need do now_   _is_ _figure out where the fire brigade is,_ he thought as he slipped on his shoes in the hallway.   

**Recherché**

Against the backdrop of variegated greens and stationary taupes, how wondrous was the synchronization of their rapid breaths - Ibiki’s tawny flesh, swathed in dark blue, his partner beneath him, ebony, formidable and sinewy.  Supple cowhide slid through his fingers, wrapped about an experienced hand, it slapped against his wrists each time the one between his legs rocketed forward.   Sitting astride a partner so powerful, responsive to his mood and eager to please, how good it felt to have control freely restored. Shards of exasperation pierce through the leather beneath him, translating into stentorian hoof beats against  flagstone streets.

How sweet the adrenaline singing in his veins as they bolted from the plaza – how satisfying it was, catching glimpses of respect in the eyes of the people and hearing their collective gasps as he and his mount zipped through the side street marketplaces.  Over hard packed dirt roads, clods of earth erupt in dusty explosions as they breeze past tracts of tidy wooden bungalows; divots of soft grasses flew up in their wake as they gamboled through parkland adorned with aesthetically pleasing flowerbeds and lined with trees. 

By the time they reached the outskirts of town, a chunk of his harbored anger broke free from its moorings - but the sting of the Governor’s words, the pain inflicted by her lack of confidence still clung to and twisted around his emotions.   The winds, wildly whipping past his ears taunted him, whispering the same question over and over:

_What if Lady Tsunade was right?_

Ever onward he rode, refusing to entertain such notions, fleeing like an escaped felon to the only place in the territory where succorance lay.   The bosom of the forest, his sanctuary, his island of objectivity, far removed from the maddening cries of civility.  There, in the dense woods, every major decision of his life was made; here he’d be endowed with strength and anointed with the fresh oil of perseverance. Today, he’d walk into the vast weald, not knowing whether he’d walk away from his post in infamy or if he’d stumble across inspiration amidst the majesty and serenity of the timberlands.

**Recherché**

 How softly fell the filtered light through overhead windows, splattering across tense shoulders as Tsunade hunched over her desk.  How gently it warmed delicate fingers splayed over papers filled with row upon row of blurred lines of text.  The need to stay busy occupied a mind and heart brimming with regret; it was at once urgent and impossible.  Twinges of compunction which began the second her office door clicked behind him, transmogrified into a burning lump looking for a means to escape the pit of her stomach.  With a shake of her head, she chided herself to stay focused on the matter at hand -- this new revision of the trade agreement had to be reviewed and passed along to the Advisory Council members by close of business today.  But as they’d done before, the static rows of black lettered legalese tap danced across their off-white parchment platform, melting together and spiraling downward into a blob of grandiose nothingness.

The image of Ibiki’s face ghosted over the papers under her hand; she saw the corner of his lip twitching as her words like a scorpion’s tail, lashed out and stung him.  That disillusioned look in his unblinking eyes, rimmed with sadness as her words became daggers plunged into his soul, mortally wounding him.  And then there was the bitter refrain incessantly screeching through her brain:

_What if Ibiki was right?_

Pushing the molehill of papers out of sight, her pince-nez silently retracted to its rightful place when her elbows crashed against the desk’s surface; shaky hands swept over and kept covered tired eyes that no longer wish to see.  “I’ve lost his allegiance,” she breathed.  “Alienated the only man in Konoha I could rely on, shoved away the one man who understands how weighty the obligation and how vehement the opposition that comes with protecting the public. _What the hell was I thinking?_

Delicate, jasmine scented heels of her hands ground against her eyes . . . _acupressure to stave off a blossoming headache,_ that’s what she told herself as this was no time for frustrated tears.   _I could’ve walked across the street, looked him in the eye and talked this thing over with him._   _But no, I reached across an ocean, begged assistance from a relative stranger, a man considered lunatic by his peers._ Nearing the end of a swiftly unraveling emotional tether, she flung herself against the chair’s back, unsure whether to scream, cry or break something; the sudden movement sent the small notebook in her lap tumbling to the floor with a thump. Eyeing it with a measure of disdain, she leaned down and salvaged the artifact penned by a long forgotten ancestor.   Reverently now, she laid it in her lap once more, smoothing down several pages bent after its indecorous plunge. “I worried myself to sleep each night when trade between Europe and Konoha was but a pipe dream,” she whispered to the little bound tome. “And then, I turned to you, the wisdom of my ancestors and found peace.” A solitary, salty tear skidded down her cheek and splashed against the book.  “I almost pulled my hair out each morning after a full moon these last months, as a madman skulked through the land.  Once more, I turned to you and you supplied me with fables.  What am I supposed to do now?”

From across the room, there came a tiny voice.  “About what ma’am?”

Loose pages flung themselves into the air from the tourbillon created as her palms slammed onto the desk.  “How many times have I warned you about sneaking up on me, Shizune?”

“Milady … I’m sorry,” she said over the noise of the silver serving tray clattering to the ground.  “I knocked . . . twice.  When you didn’t answer, I just walked in, but you were so deep in thought . . .  I figured if I were quiet, I wouldn’t disrupt--”    

“Calm yourself,” she said rising from her seat, the book in her hand and a tight smile on her lips.   “Been cooped up in this office too long today ... the walls are closing in on me … didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“My fault entirely,” she said stooping down to clear away the mess. “I should have waited till you called for me.”

“If I don’t step out for a breath of fresh air, I’ll go mad.”  Coming alongside her wide-eyed assistant, she patted her on the shoulder.  “Be a dear ... reschedule my afternoon appointments--”

“Already taken care of ma’am. Figured you might need a lay down before tonight, which reminds me … should I put out your clothes now or did you wish me to wait until later?”

“Clothes . . . for what?”

Shizune cocked her head and carefully studied her mistress’ face where irritation was striving for dominance over confusion.  “Hitomi’s tsuya is tonight.  The Hyuga and the Advisory Council members expect you to make an appearance at the Temple.”

Tsunade’s back bumped against the office door and for a moment, it looked as if she’d slide right down to the floor. “How could I have forgotten?  I trust you’ll find something appropriate for the occasion … call my hairdresser too, tell her I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“One more thing before you leave, Lady Tsunade.  A young man came to see you . . . claimed to have very important information for your eyes only.  I couldn’t get him to divulge the nature of--”

“I can’t deal with another lawyer right now, Shizune--” 

“But ma'am, this young man’s a doctor, just arrived from England and--”

“I don’t give a damn if he’s the Daimyo descending from the heavens on a cloud! I’m not in the right frame of mind to discuss anything with anybody,” she barked over her shoulder while fumbling with the doorknob.  “Shoo him out of the building with a smile and a shove.”  Once the door finally swung open, she said, “On second thought, give the little pissant an appointment for next week sometime.”

“Yes, ma’am but --” 

SLAM!

_And . . .  she’s gone.  Oh dear, I shouldn’t have pressed her._

Seconds later, fine china slipped from the tray and onto the rug again when the door swung open.

“This young man, Shizune . . . you said he was a doctor . . . from England?”

“Yes ma'am.  A Doctor Imono . . . I think that’s what he said.”

“It wasn’t Umino, was it?”

“Yes,” she said brightly.  “I’m sure that's the name!  He wanted to talk with you while the Inspector was here.   I spoke with him for a few minutes and as I tried to say earlier, he refused to tell me why he needed to see you so urgently.  Rather pushy he was, insisting he’d traveled to Konoha at your behest, even had a letter signed by you to back up his story.   I gave him an appointment for tomorrow afternoon--”

“Tomorrow’s too late!  I need to see him immediately,” she roared as she stooped down to still Shizune’s wrists.  “Where is he now . . . in the waiting area?”

“That was some time ago. . . I doubt he's still out there.  Lady Tsunade, please, you’re hurting me.”

“Sorry … did he happen to mention where he's staying?”

“No, but I have to imagine he's in one of the inns down the street.  What's wrong . . . what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later,” she said running back to her desk. A note, hurriedly scratched across the back of a fallen piece of paper was thrust into Shizune’s hands.  “Leave that mess where it is . . . deliver this to Ibiki and tell him to meet me here in an hour, understand?”

**Recherché**

Notes: 

Stentorian: very loud or powerful in sound.

Weald: wooded or uncultivated country.

Tourbillon: a whirlwind, or something resembling a whirlwind.

Tsuya (Japanese): a wake, the night before the funeral.

Sexton: a church officer or employee who takes care of the church property and performs minor duties such as ringing the church bell or digging graves.  

 


	9. Recherche: The Path to Perdition

For the workmen … it was an experience.  

Sure, they’d seen rich folk up close before and they knew the rules; bow politely, never initiate conversation and avoid direct eye contact if addressed.  But this man made forgetting the rules easy.  Tall, dark, powerfully built, he was nothing like the local landowners they were accustomed to.  His carriage regal, and yet his stride, like that of a rouster employed down at the docks.  Most of the monied would pinch their noses as they passed by them, but this man’s smile was so warm and friendly, it was as if he didn’t mind breathing in the same air they did. He was kindly affectioned to them, though it was clear to everyone present, the household servants greatly feared him.

It was a puzzlement.

Ah, but what stories they’d whisper round humble hearths or shout across roughhewn tables inside the taverns tonight

For Maito … it was torture.

These men of simple minds and strong backs, the sweat stained clothing which adhered to their chunky physiques; their easy, unrefined laughter and grunts of exertion ... these awakened in him an appentence forbidden. Commingled musky scents trapped inside the foyer and funneled down the corridor, made him sick to his stomach; bitter reminders were they of what soon would be denied him.  The smile he wore hid the ravening beast within and concealed the panic ripping at his innards.  He walked among them as a peckish man in a well-stocked market; mightily anhungered, without the means to purchase or the craftiness to steal that which he craved.  But the yearnings of his belly must needs wait, for something more terrifying than cupidity lay ahead.

 For the first time in years … Maito was afeard.

You see, when summoned to the manor in times past, ere the full moon rose, he’d stride through the maze of underground tunnels leading to the master's chambers; there would he give his report and there would his collar of subjugation clatter to the ground. It was his reward for a job well done.  Acting as the eyes, ears and strong arm of his master, his recompense was more precious than refined gold.

Liberty.

A reprieve from this clunky suit of flesh, freedom to revel and indulge in his nature most primal.  For three wondrous nights each month, he’d choreograph a hellish band of minions through the sacred hunting and mating rituals of his people.  Imbued with a portion of the Master’s authority, he orchestrated the voices of a lupine choir, leading them in songs of worship and praise to the Lord of the Lycanthropes.

Seventy-two hours of surfeit,

feasting on the flesh and the fat, drinking deeply from the fountains of blood spurting from his prey; their terrified screams ringing down in his ears.  With the coming of the dawn, he’d stand majestic - glistening dew, fragments of bone and splatters of blood clinging to his fur, he’d make his bed in the soft moss of a forest cave as the sun rose; his belly full ... his body satisfied.

Alas, it would not be so this time.

Called inside the manor proper while the sun ruled the heavens, recompense would surely come; punishment - swift and severe, that was his due

for now, was the Master at his vengeful best ... ‘twas true.

For his error, a hue and cry for justice now sounded throughout the town; the citizenry in an uproar, the constables in stymied readiness,

for a mad dog killer, they must needs bring down.  

 

Alas and alack, poor Maito … from his fate was no escape.

 

**Recherché**

As he walked along the corridor, he couldn’t help wondering _,_

_Where did I go wrong?_

When his eyes fell upon her as the ship pulled into port weeks earlier, he knew she was the one.  Though scores of people thronged around her, their eyes searching the assembled crowd for a familiar face, their arms raised, waving as they caught sight of friends or family members, his target stood alone.  Enveloped in a bubble of melancholy, her eyes were downcast.  Her manner of dress, simple and proper for a young lady her age; her long flowing ebony hair, free of ostentatious adornment, billowed in the breezes.

These, he assumed were signs she’d left behind any and all familial attachments.

Of course he’d seen the rows of elegant carriages lined up at the port’s entrance – it was impossible to miss them, yet he presumed they waited for someone other than her.    He left the port long before his target disembarked, confident that he’d found a prize for the Master to claim.  In the following days, he hounded her steps, taking careful note of where she lived and the company she kept.

Her residence - the nurses’ dormitory; her daily frocks bespoke her status as they were the standard issue of medics working to receive certification.  She had no close friends to speak of and rarely socialized with her peers outside the hospital.  At ease among the downtrodden, the aged and the ill . . . no hint of haughtiness or high bred mannerisms had she.  Nothing about her life indicated she had a family, especially an influential and politically connected one – one which had an adversarial relationship with the ruling family of the territory as well as their peers.

 _And now,_ he thought, _what defense have I, the basest of creatures against an omnipotent being?  What words can I draw from a limited human vocabulary to express my regret which buffets me about the head and shoulders with an overwhelming sense of shame?_

**Recherché**

Standing in a wedge of yellow sunshine stretching under the drawing room doors, Maito leaned forward, breathing in the fused scents springing from the enormous salon. There was a hint of fresh ink from a newly filled pot . . . the fragrance of warm spiced tea and the crisply pungent aroma of pine sap from the logs stacked by the fireplace. And then …  of course, there was the distinctively masculine and unappetizing scent of that _house servant_ \- Kinoe.

 _Blasted cockalorum,_ he groused as the inviting light warmed the tips of his shoes.  

Like the other puny humans before him, Kinoe was overcome by the Master’s odylic force; spellbound by his mystique and unearthly power.  He lapped up the Master's abuse like a sponge even as he hungered for scraps of the Master’s power.  Unlike the others, this one was shrewd ... possessed of great intellect, a head for business and a tongue sharpened by deceit and flattery; it was to him their lord turned over control of the estate’s everyday affairs. His latest project - oversight of renovations to the manor that would serve as their base of operation.  Later, this would become the home where Master and his bride would spend eternity. The morsel of authority granted Kinoe pushed him into fostering a desire and chasing a dream that one day, he alone would stand at the Master’s right hand ... the heel of his boot crushing Maito’s head into the dust.

 _What an arrogant fool._    _For all his intelligence and savvy,_ _he never understood the bond betwixt myself and the Master_ ; _a sacred covenant, a claim against and a seal engraved on my soul which forever secures my position._

In exchange for his mortal soul, Kinoe was cursed to an eternity of brutal servitude; his sustenance would come in the form of vermin, arthropods, reptiles and amphibians.  But the loss of esteem in the eyes of his lord was too heavy a burden for Maito to bear.  Master never forgot a wrong committed and never forgave those who disappointed him.  

The thought of banishment left a taste in his mouth bitter as wormwood and as potent as gall.  

Fear’s cold fingers claw at his mind, flashing snippets of his life outside the reach of the Master’s beck and call.

Separated from the one who gave him liberty and life,

a shriveled, tangled mass he’d be inside,

always hungering and never satisfied.  

As he leaned closer to the door, he couldn’t sense one iota of his lord’s powerful aura nor was there any trace of the Master’s uniquely enchanting scent inside the room.  A disappointment, for his lord smelled as one who bathed in the moon’s glow . . .  he was a being who wrapped himself in the night’s mist like a regal robe.  His scent, refreshing like the forest loam on a humid night and underneath it all, faint traces of copper, iron and phosphorous … the blood of his prey.  _But my lord is a powerful being, able to conceal his presence and even his scent if he wishes. Come now, quit yourself, prepare for his wrath.  But wait, the windows have been flung open,_ he absently thought as mild breezes licked at the hems of his pant legs.   _And_ _the drapes, they’ve been pushed back, giving access to the heat of the day. Master would never put himself in jeopardy just to punish me.  So, it is Kinoe alone I must face._

Angry fingers comb through his hair and sweaty palms brush along the front of his jacket.   _Though I long for his dismissal, I cannot kill him._ Another deep breath and he closed his eyes.

Silver door handles, cool under his palms, were to him a lifeline as he stood there, mustering his courage and dampening his temper. He felt himself cringe at the sounds of rustling paper and the scratch of a pen’s nib moving briskly across the lines of a ledger book; swallowing down a curse, he grit his teeth when the strident voice beyond the closed doors sang out.

“Do come in, Maito.”

No sooner than he’d pushed open the doors, intense light lunged at him from behind heavy burgundy brocade drapes; dust motes and dog hair pirouette in the sunbeams.

“I’ll thank you to close those doors quickly, the noise of the workmen has been driving me to distraction all morning,” said the pompous man seated at the desk to his right.

Maito did as instructed out of respect for the home of his lord, completely ignoring the other man as he stood stock still near the entryway of the salon.  Pointedly turning his body away, his eyes wistfully take in his favorite part of the room. Far to his left, stood a marble front fireplace and slightly away from its hearth sat two high backed leather chairs; their brass brads no longer shone, having spent years being discolored by the soot from the fireplace.   A round table of mahogany topped with the finest slate stood between the chairs; a crystal decanter and two snifters, rest on its surface.  On either side of the fireplace, floor to ceiling shelves housed a portion of the elder Hatake’s most beloved books.

Long forgotten memories spark a tiny, sad smile.

Of all the rooms in the manor, this was one of the few that remained just as Hatake Sakumo left it.

Having spent the majority of his life living abroad, it reflected a European sensibility that resonated with Lord Sakumo’s soul.  And if he closed his eyes . . .  just for a moment, he could still smell the special blend of pipe tobaccos Sakumo-dono favored … he could still hear his voice, could feel his power, pressed down and encapsulated within these four walls. He and his father before him frequently shared this space with the heads of the household; Maito sitting at the feet of the Master’s son, while his father sat on the floor beside the late, great Hatake Sakumo.  Since their return from England, it was here on cool nights he and the current Master sat side by side in those old chairs, sipping cognac . . . watching the fire crackle in silence.

 _What a lumbering, bumptious oaf,_ Kinoe thought as he watched the other man stride off in the opposite direction.

“Now pay attention, you hairy goon … I’ll make this simple enough for even you to understand,” he said. “Umino and his companions have arrived in the territory; I’ve already informed the Master.”

Maito turned and was standing in front of the other man before he could take in another breath; his fangs bared and his paw full of the soft material of Kinoe’s shirt as he lifted him up and away from his seat.

“What else did you tell him?”

Kinoe stared the partially transformed beast in his glowing yellow eyes, his voice never once giving any indication of the fear his shaking limbs were only too happy to show.

“Release me, unwashed philistine! Our lord is already aware of your ineptitude.”  

As Maito’s grip tightened and his claws dug into the yielding flesh of his chest, Kinoe wrapped his hands around the massive paw holding him aloft.  

“Hatake-dono wants you to keep an eye on Umino,” he gasped.  “He expects a report on where he’s staying and to whom he’s spoken with as soon as we return from the wake tonight.”

At the mention of the Master’s name, Maito’s natural form retreated under the surface of his human skin.  Cautiously, he released the other man with a slight backward push.  “So, he’s tracked us here at last . . .  persistent little shit, isn’t he?”

When he rounded the corner of the desk, he saw Kinoe struggling to regain his balance and it cheered him.  Now standing halfway between the desk and the drawing room doors, he said, “I’d rather snap Umino's neck and be done with it--”

“Ah, but then, our lord will surely banish you from his presence for tampering with another one of his prey. Much as I’d like to see you permanently removed, I’m sure even you aren’t that stupid.”

His mind, still fogged with rage urged him forward as the other man’s words harnessed the wrath rising within him; when he turned about, Kinoe had retaken his seat with a smirk on his face and a silver dagger lying beside his hand.

“What of the others?”

“Master’s interest is only with Umino, so I’m at liberty to kill and eat the rest . . .  right?”

 


	10. Recherche: Stitches in Time

Alas and alack, poor Ibiki.

No matter how fast or how far he ran,

from this dilemma there was no escape.

The sun beat against his back even as the chilly fingers of anxiety stutter step along his spine.  The reins fell slack in his hands, his eyes and ears deceived by the tricks of his mind.  The leaves in the trees are as the accusing eyes of the people he was sworn to protect; the babbling brooks in the distance are as the murmurs of a government whose laws he was sworn to uphold.  And the bushes stretch forth their brambles, piercing his heart like the skepticism and contempt of the men he was charged to lead.

Finally at the place where flat landscape reached its terminus and jagged outlines of the forests begin, Ibiki guided his mount off the well-trodden path.  They stand reverently before a sentry of ancient conifers guarding the passage into the wilds; this place was always his refuge, a bastion of tranquility where the weight of the world slipped from his shoulders.

Alas and alack, poor Ibiki,

it would not be so this day.

Though the soft breezes impregnated with intoxicating attars of wildflowers tug at his lingering bitterness, the sense of melancholy never falters; the weight of betrayal clings to him as a mouldy shroud.  He shook his head, closing his eyes and shutting his ears to the conjured images and sounds as his mount adopts an ambling gait.  “Unbelievable,” he said, as he sharply pulled back on the reins.  “A woman that intelligent and perceptive insists on kowtowing to the fairy stories of her ancestors.  Ridiculous!”

Without warning was he pitched forward, his forehead colliding with Mayonaka’s poll when the horse came to a standstill. “What a horrid master I am,” he whispered into a flickering ear.   “It’s been years since I worked you this hard … sorry about that old friend.”  Smoothing his hand down the muscular neck, he said,  “You’ve earned your rest and here’s a good a place as any to take it.”  

Gingerly alighting the saddle, a flick of the wrist brought the reins over the horse’s head.  “If memory serves, there’s a little creek beyond that clump of trees … let’s go.”

Mayonaka took a few timid steps and paused; a slight tug on the reins and the horse took a few steps more and pulled back against the lead.

“Okay … what’s your problem?”

Mayonaka responded with a snort and a jerk of his massive head in the opposite direction.  Digging his hooves into the soft grasses, he refused to budge.  

“You realize this conduct is unbecoming a patrol officer, don’t you? Come along now, I’ve had my fill of contrariness for one morning.”

This time, Mayonaka almost jerked his arm from its socket.

“Fine! I’ve no time for your nonsense either!” He stalked off toward the creek, rifling through his pockets as he went. Eyeing a smooth wide tree stump, he skirted around it, too angry to sit just now. Under the resplendent shade of towering trees, humid winds tote the call and response of the komadori and cool waters splash over smooth stones in the belly of the creek as he paced alongside the mossy bank. He stops short near a clump of eye high spindly foliage veiling his view of the town.  

“I know the answer is staring me in the face … why the hell can’t I see it?”

In the distance, faint strains of a steam whistle issuing from the lumber mill called workers back to their posts and as it does, Ibiki finds himself wishing he could trade places with them; to daily expend his strength producing something of value.  He allows himself to think how pleasant it would be - returning to his abode by evening, an honest day’s work having leached his energy that he might rest in the bosom of dreamless sleep by night.

But it was never to be so; that he knew right well.

The stillness of the forest takes him captive once more - the crunch of his teeth tearing away the tip of the cigar he’d fished from his pocket is almost deafening.  Sweet cognac and bitter tobacco dowse his taste buds as he turns his back on the town and stands transfixed, watching the end piece of his cigar gracefully arc as it shoots from his mouth; an embittered laugh rises from his chest as his eyes follow the ragged wad as it bobs and floats in the dark cool creek water.

 _Well if that doesn’t sum up my life these past months,_ _nothing else can._

Months pass and the center of his desk filled with paperwork about these murders; day by day, malicious whispers and the distrustful eyes of the masses adhere to his back everywhere he went.  These things ripped out a chunk of his confidence and spewed it forth like tainted meat.  Now, he floundered in the slow moving currents of failure with little time  before the waters of bureaucracy would engulf and drag him down.

Back to the tree stump he wandered, taking a seat and striking a match against the sole of his boot.

“Here I thought you were the only one who understood me, Mayonaka.  You know, I’ve never faced anything like this before; it scares the hell out of me.  And you, a friend … a fellow officer no less, refusing to assuage my concerns, well .. well.”

Mayonaka quietly approached, his pasterns brushing over tender ground cover with a _swish_ as crisp leaf litter _crunches_ beneath his hooves.  He stands to Ibiki’s right, fixing him with the equine equivalent of empathy.

“I hate the fact that you know me so well,” he said with a chuckle.  “Here’s the situation in a nutshell …  if I go along with this piffle about undead creatures on a rampage, there’s no way I can justify that nor encourage my men to continue their investigation. Calling in a demon hunter would take the constables out of the equation and make us an even bigger laughingstock.”

Mayonaka snorted.

“My sentiments exactly.  But, if I follow my gut that’s telling me this is the work of one or more deranged human beings … how the hell do I prove it to the Advisory Council and the people of the territory?”

Mayonaka shook his head as he drew closer to his troubled master.

“The way I see it, Umino might be an agent from another nation jealous of our prosperity; by sending him, they hope to scare us away from opening our borders to foreigners.  That or he’s working with some religious nutcases _inside_ the territory.  Either way, I figure he’s an accomplice or an accessory to murder.  Wait a minute,” he said as he stood.  “There’s another powerful and extremely vocal faction of men inside the territory who oppose trade with foreigners though their worries have nothing to do with the loss of culture or heritage.  Trade would only increase their wealth.  What they fear is losing control over the minds of the people.”

Once more he took to pacing as Mayonaka positioned himself by the creek for a drink.

“Shimura Danzou and Kokucho Orochimaru … two of the oldest and most influential members of the Advisory Council; they spend their days exerting pressure on the Governor and me by extension to get a handle on these killings, so it looks like they have the interests of the people at heart.  But with the murder of Hyuga Hitomi, each of them gains leverage to unseat the sole heir of the Senju legacy.  They know I’d never consider them suspects and they’ve tolerated me this long, because I’ve been discrete . . . kept my mouth shut about their …  unnatural relations.”

With his mount quenching his thirst, Ibiki rummaged through the saddlebags.  The water in his canteen surprisingly cool, fresh and sweet; a backward swipe of his forearm sopped up the moisture clinging to his lips.  He turns, absently carding through Mayonaka’s silken mane. A cloud of smoke enfolds him as he leans against the sinewy shoulder of his mount.  “I’m damned either way I turn.  I have no idea how to proceed … not sure if I want to anymore.”

Whether intended to bat away a biting insect or to knock some sense into the dejected officer beside him, Ibiki laughed at himself when the tips of the horse’s heavy tail thumped against his back.

“Okay … message received,” he said with a sigh, “if you’ll just go with me to the crime scene, I promise to stop feeling sorry for myself . . . agreed?”

**Recherché**

It was quarter past the hour when she left the office; across the street, a fresh troop of horses and their handlers lined up for inspection outside the constabulary.  Shizune immediately considered doing an about face.  _No,_ she thought squaring her shoulders, _Lady Tsunade is_ _depending on me._

Over the last four months, these mounted patrols saw an increase in their workload as more of the concerned rich demanded greater protection around their estates.  Cocksure and enterprising, most of them earned money under the table working as private security forces; for this she did not begrudge them.  Yet it was the selfsame reason she didn’t fancy being in their presence.  In her mind, they were no better than thugs, wearing uniforms to cover their cowardice, willing to fleece the rich as long as they could and ready to flee at the slightest hint of a bugbear.

The changing of shifts meant the Inspector would be unavailable for a time, but leaving the Governor’s note with anyone other than him was out of the question.

_She’ll know if I didn’t follow her instructions exactly so, I can’t turn back now._

Taking a deep breath, she squeezed through the clutch of officers as they entered and exited the building, nodding her head in acknowledgement and smiling politely as they passed her by.  Once inside the squad room, she ducked into a corner, out of the patrolmen’s way yet with an excellent vantage point to catch sight of the Inspector.

To the left of the watch commander’s desk stood an orderly line of constables, laughing and talking as they waited their turns to sign in.  Over the din, she heard someone call out to her.   She turned to see Ryota, beckoning her to come alongside his desk.

 “Shift change” he said.  What can I do for you, Miss Shizune?”

“I have something for the Inspector … is he in his office?”

Ryota shook his head sadly.

“Lady Tsunade told me to put this note directly in his hand; have you any idea where I can find him?”

“Nope and I can’t promise when he’ll see it,” he said, holding out his hand to receive the small envelope clutched against her obi. “But I’ll make sure he gets it.”

Looking around the room once more, she held the note tighter.  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.  Are you sure he didn’t sneak past you?  I mean with all this commotion . . . perhaps he’s in the restroom?”

He gave her a big grin as another officer dropped off his report.   “Nothing or nobody comes through here without my notice.  Trust me, if the Inspector were in the building, we wouldn’t have all this hubbub.”

She glanced around the room a final time, “I don’t mind waiting--”

“And I don’t expect him back anytime soon.”  Turning to straighten the pile of papers at the corner of the desk he said, “Ibiki was a wee bit ‘preoccupied’ this morning; whatever happened during that meeting with the Governor, well … it brought out the worst in him.”

“Yes, well, we had an interesting morning on my side of the street too . . . that meeting did nothing to improve Lady Tsunade’s state of mind either.”

Ryota bowed his head. “Now, now, I’m just stating fact; no need to get yourself upset.”

Just then, the clock in the station room chimed the hour and the noise level  dropped down to hushed whispers as the men clustered together in the center of the room.

“Ibiki went out to a crime scene,” he whispered. “Got a feeling he’s not coming back.”

“I see.  Lady Tsunade excused herself from the office as well.  Claimed she was going for a long walk but I know she didn’t get far.  Probably sitting under a  tree in the park people watching, else she’s holed up by the sea, watching the waves roll in.”

Quickly looking his left and right as a few of the constables milled about, he leaned over and whispered, “Who do those two think they’re fooling …not us, right?  The Inspector and the Governor, stubborn as two swaybacked pack mules under heavy loads.  With everything going on lately, is it any wonder they’re frazzled?”

Shizune bent down and propped her elbow on the desk. “They’re cut from the same cloth.  Completely unyielding when they think they’re in the right … quick to apologize when they find out they aren’t.” 

Jotting down a few notes from the thin manila folder before him, Ryota mumbled, “Pushed to their limits they were.  A swarm of solicitors descending on the Governor, a tragedy involving one of the richest and most powerful families in the territory weighing on Ibiki’s mind--”

“And when they bumped heads,” Shizune said, “I’m sure there was an explosion--”

“Exactly.  They need a little time and a lot of space to cool down . . .  that’s all.”

Tucking the note inside a ruck of her obi, she said, “You’re right, not like the first time they didn’t see eye to eye about something.”

“Yep, they’ll meet up at the tsuya tonight, dance around each other as if nothing happened and by tomorrow, all this unpleasantness will be forgotten.”

Standing taller now, Shizune smiled at the sage watch commander. “Thanks, Ryota. I’ve got a million things to do before the wake … best tend to them before the Governor gets back.”

  **Recherché**

The closer they came to the appointed place, once more Mayonaka exhibited a growing reluctance to follow his lead; that was unusual, yet forgivable, for even Ibiki sensed the eeriness in the atmosphere.  A few gentle strokes of his hand along the velvety soft nose and a couple of calmly spoken words made it possible to tether the reins around a tree trunk. However, before wandering deeper into the forest, Ibiki extracted the dagger holstered inside his boot.  He no longer needed the map; up ahead, the forest floor was swept clean, save piles of sawdust and straw meticulously raked in circular patterns. All the trees in this area were hewn to the same exact height, again, not necessarily suspicious; lumberjacks usually tied ropes around a clump of trees at a preselected height – he’d long since forgotten the reasons why. At the base of each tree lay a garland of dried flowers … that wasn’t something lumberjacks did as a rule.  The bark of the trees had diagonal lines gouged into the wood.  Again, he shrugged it off.   _Maybe the hunter did meet his fate by a bear or a mountain lion.  Though I’ve never known wild animals to leave memorial garlands._

He ascended a ridge above the trees and from this vantage point two things were clear.  It was obvious some had been culled from the cluster; at least six feet of space separated the trees on either side.  Viewed together, they resembled an arrowhead with its tip pointing due north.   “Why is it pointing toward the cemetery?” _Damn!  I hoped not to get him involved with this, but I have no other option._ Sheathing the dagger, he climbed down from his perch. 

"Come on Mayonaka. We're gonna pay a visit to your favorite person."

 

Notes:

Komadori: robin(s).

Poll: name for a part of an animal's head, referring to a point immediately behind or right between the ears. This area has a slight depression and is very sensitive. Since the crownpiece of a bridle passes over the poll joint, a rider indirectly exerts pressure on the horse's poll by means of the reins, bit and bridle.

Pastern: parts of a horse’s leg between its fetlocks and hooves.


	11. Recherche: Getting to Know You

There on the crest of the hill stood Genma, his chest puffed with pride. "Brought you up this way on purpose, behold …the Fire Temple,” he said flinging wide his arms.  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

 "Please don't tell me," huffed a weary Kotetsu, "there was an easier way to get here, wasn’t there?"

“Maybe, but you have to admit it’s majesty was worth the trip.”

Ignoring the murderous gleam in his friend’s eye, Izumo positioned himself between the men. “It’s not every day we see something like this Genma," he said.  "I don’t know how to thank you--”

 “Well I do Zumo."   Rubbing  away the stitch in his side Kotetsu wheezed, "Soon as I catch my breath... I'm gonna strangle him ... and then …you.”

“Don't forget, we’re doing this for Iruka,” came the snipped reply from the side of his mouth. “And you’re right, Tetsu, they did do a remarkable job of incorporating the additions.”

"Naturally," said Genma, his yellow toothed grin stretching wide, "the finest artisans and construction workers in the five nations make their home right here in Konoha.  See that building over there?  That’s where the first group of monks used to spend their days meditating, studying bugei and practicing bujutsu; they were the Daimyo’s original guards and protectors of the cargo ships back in the early days. Bout sixty years ago, Hashirama Senju gifted the monks with another five acres of land and they … wait a minute Izumo, how’d you know about the additions?”

“I was born in Konoha, remember?  Spent the first ten years of my life here.   Matter of fact, they were finishing up two of the newer building right before we moved to England.”

“Oh, that's right,” said Genma, “it’s coming back to me now.”

"Amazing ... if I close my eyes, I can still smell the incense the monks used on special occasions; winds used to carry the fragrance through the town on summer's days--"

“Damn shame, this couldna happened at a worse time.”

“For cryin' out loud!  This idiot can’t stay on one topic to save his life," Kotetsu hissed.  "All this stoppin’ and starting ... getting on my nerves--”

“Shhh!  Sorry, Genma … you were saying?”

“Hyuga girl's death ... hell of a way to kick off mating season.”

“And her death relates to the temple buildings and the ‘mating season', how exactly?”

“Huh?  Said that out loud did I?  Sorry … sometimes I forget I'm talkin' to live folk.”

“There's a big surprise,” Kotetsu mumbled.  "Jackass." 

“Shame," continued Genma, "half the territory is gonna see her on a sad occasion – her tsuya is tonight, ...sure I mentioned it.  How fragile this mortality, you know?  Had she lived, a select few would’ve seen her at her brightest and best at this same temple …   her wedding day, I mean.”

“We’re with you so far,” Izumo said, “but what about--?”  

“The 'mating season'?  We’re in it right now.  It's the time of year when rich folk and their lawyers get together with the matchmakers so's they can plan next spring’s nuptials.  No romance, just combining fortunes ... keeps the money flowin' in the same ponds.   And since Konoha is about to ratify trade agreements with Europe, that means new money is gonna pour into the territory.  Well, anyway, the building over there is the lecture hall; most of the monks are in there, this time of morning. I’m gonna head off to the gardens on your left.  If we hurry along, I might catch the chief priest before he starts meditating. Gotta say though,  feel sorry for the new kid,” he said as they began their descent.

“Let me guess ... you're not talking about the chief priest anymore, are ya?”

“Did it again huh, Mr. Hagane?  Sorry bout that, terrible habit.  Somebody once told me I’m a 'stream of consciousness' kinda guy; a nice way of saying I blurt out whatever I’m thinking.”

“If you ask me, psycho is a more accurate term. Zumo, I don’t know how much more I can take of this guy before I bust him one --”

“Yeah, it was bout a year ago when he got here," Genma continued, "the new guy I mean;fancy lookin' fella.  Came home to bury his father’s ashes.  I heard he used to live in Europe.”

Izumo and Kotetsu held their tongues, having agreed silence would squeeze more from their ‘fat little duck’.

“Comes from old money, you could almost smell it in the air around him; they, the other rich folk, talked him into hosting one of their shindigs .  Makes sense of course … got a big fancy house full of servants, and he's a bachelor too,” he said tapping his pipe against the palm of his hand.  “His father left him bout fifty acres of land further to the west; I hear he's got interests in silver and copper too ... hell I'd marry him, if he asked.  Businessmen been flocking around him like vultures on a corpse since he got back ... picking his brain, seeing if he’s still got contacts over there in Europe that they can exploit too. Yep, feel sorry for the new kid.”

“I can tell you’re a world traveler,” Kotetsu mocked. “Europe is vast ... care to winnow it down for us?”

“Hmm," he said tamping the tobacco down in the bowl, "somebody said he came from London.”

“Well, exciting news ... at last.   I mean," Izumo explained, "there were only fifty Japanese people where we lived, so it’s possible we know him. What's his name, Genma?”

“Huh, names of folks I don't see on the regular get away from me, but I never forget a face.  Saw him the night he arrived," he said, patting down his pockets for a matchbox.  "Tall, lanky fella ... remember thinking how strange it was to see a head full of gray hair on such a young man. Must be a family trait, that, or somebody gave him a good fright.   And something’s wonky with his left eye too, that silk eyepatch barely covered a right wicked lookin’ scar.”  The biting smell of phosphorous and tobacco brought tears to their eyes as Genma puffed away.  “Surname is Hajame or Hataji … or some such.”

Kotetsu and Izumo turned to one another smiling broadly.

“Hatake,” they whispered.

**Recherché**

_Should have followed my first mind,_ she thought as the last of the well-wishers dispersed. _Too late for a nap now._ _Might as well go back to the office … Ibiki oughta be there directly._   As she stood, most of the newspaper slipped free of her lap, scattering itself across the bench. With a mumbled curse and a quick pivot, she turned to retrieve it. Suddenly, something sturdy collided with her hip and the ground rose to meet her. _  
_

_What the hell?_

A brown arm shot across her chest, shielding her from impact with the sharp gravel surrounding the bench; a warm hand caught her by the elbow, and the concerned face of a panicked young man abruptly appeared in her line of sight.  "Gosh, I’m sorry ma’am ... wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

“Yes, well ... I’ll thank you to unhand me,” she gruffly said, glancing down at the arm smashed against her bosom.

“Pardon me ma'am.  Didn’t hurt you, did I?   Again, I'm so sorry.”

Set to give him a piece of her mind once she could stand unaided, the moment she saw those kind brown eyes brimming with fretfulness, she lost the will to chew him out.   “I’m fine … question is,” she said pointing to his bloodied bandaged hand, “are you alright?”

**Recherché**

“Damn it… more stairs Zumo?”

“What did you think those long white stone things leading up to the temple gates were ... flocks of seagulls?”

Kotetsu stroked at his goatee as he stared off into the distance. “You’re a regular riot, but if you look at 'em sideways, like this,” he said tilting his head, “kinda look like slices of coconut layer cake.”

“Coconut layer cake?  Oh no, it’s happening again!”

Genma nervously looked back and forth between them. “What? What’s happening?”    Watching Kotetsu stagger off the steps toward an open area ringed with fruit trees to their right, he grabbed at Izumo’s wrist, “What’s wrong with him?”

He waited quietly as Kotetsu tottered onto a patch of grass and unceremoniously dropped to his knees. _He’s playing this to the hilt._ _Guess I'll have to step up my game too,_ he thought, turning to the mortified mortician. “Having one of his spells,” he whispered. “Before we left London, he was diagnosed with a serious illness … narcolepsy, that's what the doctor said. Ever heard of it?”

 “Never, and I pride myself on keeping abreast of the latest illnesses. Death certificates are legal documents, don't you know; hafta provide an accurate cause of demise. Narcolepsy,” he sounded out the word carefully, “that’s a new one on me,and he’s so young." He paused, looking around Izumo to the shallow breathing man on his knees. "Seemed healthy he did. This illness ... it’s not fatal, is it?”

Excusing the hopeful note in the undertaker’s voice, Izumo kept a straight face saying, “Thankfully, no.  More than anything it's embarrassing. He’s awful sensitive about it Genma so, please … don’t tease him about it when he comes around.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!”

Just then, Kotetsu keeled over, crumpling onto his side as Genma’s eyebrows disappeared under the hat’s headband. “What’s happening to him now?”

“That my friend, is cataplexy . . . a sudden, uncontrollable loss of muscle tone triggered by intense emotion; usually happens before the narcolepsy takes firm hold of him. These episodes come on stronger when he’s overtired or famished,” he  said as they walked to the place Kotetsu lay.

“Had I but known he was in poor health ... could’ve taken the shortcut.”

“Relax, this isn't entirely your fault. I should have made him eat something before we left his morning. Come on, help me get him to that tree over there and onto his back.”

Dragged a short distance and shifted into a supine position between them, Genma leaned over Kotetsu’s body. “How long you think he’ll be out of it?”

"A few minutes, maybe a half an hour," Izumo said as he leaned back against the tree, "he’ll wake refreshed and completely unaware of how he got here."

"Sickly, huh?  Who'da thunk it? Not to worry, some of the best doctors in the world live here you know."

"You really should work for the tourism department.  And, uh," he cautioned as Genma moved to check Kotetsu's pulse, "wouldn’t do that if I were you. He's been known to come out after one of these attacks… learned that the hard way.  I say we just rest awhile...  make the best of this situation.”

Glancing down on the stricken man, up to Izumo and finally toward the temple, Genma said, “Feel kinda responsible for his state, I’m real sorry about that. But since the head priest isn’t going anywhere, guess we can take a break.” Flipping off his hat, he dabbed at the sweatband with his handkerchief. “You two been friends a long time have you?”

“The three of us practically grew up together--”

“Ah, that explains why you look alike then.”

“Who, me and Kotetsu?”

“Nah, in profile, you and that Umino fella bear a striking resemblance. I’d bet my last dollar you're related.”

“Good eye, Genma … our fathers were brothers, half brothers actually and--”

“Consanguinity,” he said, slapping his thigh. “I knew it! Look, I think he’s coming to.”

Izumo gave his friend the once over and a subtle kick to the shin, declaring, “I think not.  Yeah, those were fun times growing up in London ... we got into such mischief,” he laughed. “So what else can you tell me about this Hajame person?”

"Practically a recluse, I hear," Genma said as he turned the hat crown side down on his lap.  "Then again, those creative types usually are; they sleep all day, work all night--”

“He’s an artist or musician, I take it.”

“Nah, he's the brainy type; used to be a medical doctor, surgeon or somethin' ... now he's just a writer.  Fluent in four languages, travels extensively and translates textbooks in his spare time, so says the rumor mill.”

"My father and uncle worked with anatomists and illustrators, translating English medical texts.  Small world ...  we traveled halfway round the globe just to meet someone who probably lived across the street from us." Izumo closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, "Imagine that, renewing acquaintance with somebody who might have worked with my father and uncle."  Suddenly his eyes popped open and he turned to Genma.  "Sorry, must sound like a babbling idiot to you. I'm just thrilled with the notion of reconnecting with someone from the old stomping grounds--”

“No, no, I got it ... but like I said, the guy’s a long beard away from being a hermit. Wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for an invitation to tea with him--"

"I'm sure you're right, Genma."

"And while I'm at it, let me correct myself. That  guy aint from London proper, I heard he's from a place called Cornwall . . . that's a suburb of London, right?”

“If you consider a seaside town 250 miles southwest of London a suburb--”

“Oh.. well, maybe this guy isn’t who you think he is.”

“Yeah,” Izumo blew out a long breath, “maybe he isn’t.”

Suddenly, the body between them stiffens; Kotetsu’s legs start twitching and his entire upper body is shaking like a leaf in the wind. 

“Izumo! Is he having a seizure? Should I fetch a doctor?”

“Probably just an anger stroke, he’ll be fine.”

“A what?”

“Nothing.  Listen, you’ve already done us a huge favor.  I know how much lies before you today so, why don’t you go on without us?”

Genma was on his feet in an instant. "If you insist,” he said, considering the grimacing face of Kotetsu and the vacant eyes of Izumo, “you sure he’s gonna be okay?”

 

Notes:

Consanguinity: relationship by descent from a common ancestor; kinship.

A bit of history geekage:  the first milestones in media history were newspapers in the Meiji period; the first one being the Nagasaki Shipping List and Advertiser, founded in 1861.


	12. Recherche: Mending Fences, Building Bridges Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi never shows up when expected and when he does, he manages to overshadow those around him. Thank you kindly for allowing the other characters to shine before he appears and eclipses them.

_Bout time they got that sign fixed,_ he thought bringing his mount to halt at the front gate.  _E_ x _panded the stables, I see and the paddocks look full too._ “Lot of changes since we were here last, eh, Mayonaka?” As they head up the gravel path, several of the farm hands shoot incredulous looks their way, while the older one stop to chat him up.

“Hold it right there! The hell are you doing here?”

The wild-haired, snarling woman blocking his path was Inuzuka Tsume, proprietor of Konoha’s veterinary hospital, matriarch of a powerful clan and his acid-tongued in law.  Ibiki mustered a fake grin saying, “Thank god everything around here hasn’t changed. How’s it going?”

“We’re busier than one-legged men in a butt kicking contest or haven't you noticed? Kiba!” she yelled over her shoulder, “Come get this horse! Well, Biki? Unless you’re here to arrest somebody ... we could use another set of hands. Kiba! Damn it, where is that boy?”

“For heaven’s sake Mother … what’s all the shouting about?”

Running from the doorway of the house, a leather apron draped over her arm was his sister-in-law. Inuzuka Hana, the fresh faced, peace maker of the family; hard to believe she was related to the woman with her hands entangled in his mount’s reins. _Ever the optimist, she saw only the good in people, even me,_ he thought. “Hana,” he said. “How’ve you been?”

“Afraid I’ll have to catch you up on all the news over dinner. Mind taking these to the stable? Oh, hang on … you’ll need a pair too.”

“No, Hana, you don't understand ... wasn’t going to stay ... just came to--”

“Don’t be silly," she turned and said, "we haven’t seen you in ages, of course you’ll stay for dinner--”

“No, I can’t. Quick question for Idate is all,” he called after her as she ducked inside the house.

“Well, he aint got no time for chitchat neither,” Tsume growled, “we got two mares in foal--”

“In foal?” He spared the tall, sturdily built woman an awkward glance. “A bit late in the season and too early in the day--”

“Yeah? Tell the mares that why don’t ya? Now dismount and get your ass over to the stables! Damn it Kiba! Where are you?”

“Behind you Mom," the young man said with a smile. "Hey uncle Biki! It’s been a while.”

“Sure has and what a strapping young man you’ve turned into,” he said, alighting the saddle. “Looking like your old man every day.”

“Don’t insult the boy,”  Tsume snarled. “There’s work needs doing ... no time for gum flapping the two of ya--!”

Just then, Hana bounded out the front door with an armload of supplies.   "Sorry  to press you into service like this Ibiki."  It’s been nuts around here," she added, shoving a pair of obstetric sleeves toward him.  "I know Idate would be grateful for a bit of your time."

“I'd only be in his way, Hana. ”

“Nonsense,” she smiled. “he'll appreciate someone experienced beside him.”

“Yes, but we haven't spoken since, you know ...the incident--”

“Silly man, that was a hundred years ago, . 'Sides,"she flashed him a winning smile as his eyes searched hers for reprieve, "we're family.  Families fall out, they fall in and they mend bridges, it's what we do." She gave him a pat on the shoulder and a slight shove toward the stable. "You’ll have a few hours to talk things over and you’ll see ... he’s changed Ibiki;not the hothead he used to be--”

"Still, it’s been a long time since I did the foaling thing. Not sure I remember how--”

“Aw, cram it! Idate knows what's what; just do as he says and you’ll be fine,” snapped an irritated Tsume. “Damn it girl! Aren't those vaccines ready yet?”

“Not yet, ma’am.”

“Well hurry it up! Do I hafta do everything around here myself? Oh and Biki,” she called over her shoulder as she headed toward the main house, “try not to get yourself trampled.”

**Recherché**

A glimmer of recognition and a glut of insincere smiles; these highlight the minuet of saving face as Tsunade and Iruka dance around the issue of:

_‘Why can’t I remember how I know you or where I know you from?’_

He, hesitant to speak first for fear of making another blunder, humbly averted his eyes; she, reluctant to concede another memory lost to time’s onward march, boldly searched the young man’s face. Her eyes swept down over his suit, settling on the arm which he held close to his belly.

“Your hand,” she said. “What happened?”

 _So much for remaining inconspicuous,_ he thought glowering at his traitorous upturned palm. The speed in which a plausible falsehood sprang to mind surprised him. "This is what bad timing and poor judgment looks like,” he said, stretching his hand toward her. The tone of his voice in his own ears was steady and filled with enough self-deprecation to squelch further questioning. When she didn’t recoil in shock at the sight of the blood, Iruka huffed out a humorless laugh. “Reckon it wasn’t a good idea to slice through an apple using my palm as a cutting board, was it?”

Unfazed both by the handkerchief and his scrawny wit, Tsunade spared him a disbelieving glance as she took his hand into her own.

He wanted to protest the intrusion when she pulled loose the sloppily tied kerchief, but he couldn’t; he wished with all his might he were brazen enough to snatch away his hand when she roughly bent backward his fingers, but he didn’t. Good manners allowed only a wince and a swallowed down grunt as concessions to his discomfort.

The stern look on her face and the soft hand holding his, made him uncomfortable as time plodded along - soon the brittle sound of his nervous chatter flooded the gulch of reticence dividing them.

“Sprinkled some alum from my shaving kit on it earlier,” he said when she squeezed the underside of his hand. “Stung like a nest of angry bees … guess it wasn’t adequate, huh?”  
  
“Course it wasn’t. The wound's too deep ... lot of damage to the tissues." A fresh line of crimson welled up, pooling along the crease of his palm when she bent his hand toward his body. "And if this is your dominant hand, it won’t stop bleeding until properly treated.” From the squinting of his eyes, the tense set of his shoulders and the tight smile on his lips, it was clear she’d embarrassed him. _All right,_ she thought _. Go easy on the kid . . . yes he’s a klutz, but don’t scare him to death_. “See here young man, get over to the apothecary; have them prepare a mixture of powdered Mitragyna Parvifolia and Calendula Officinalis--”

“But wouldn’t yarrow root do just as well ma’am?”

The moderately peeved look she gave him was on par with the ones his mother affected, right before she tugged on his ear and served up a scalding tongue-lashing. Without conscious thought, his left hand flew up to shield a vulnerable earlobe. She was still fixing him with a look which brokered no backtalk when she said,  “When you get home, mix a pinch of the powder with warm water until it becomes a smooth paste and apply it liberally. Then, wrap your hand, with a _clean_ bandage . . . you can get those from the apothecary too. Leave the paste and the bandage on overnight to staunch the bleeding and lessen the swelling.”

“Yes, ma'am ... thank you for your concern and advice."

They stood silent for a time, his hand in hers . . . her eyes still searching his face. “You’ll pardon me young man but, you look very familiar.”

“I have that kind of face,” he joked. “People say I remind them of--”

“Related to the Mitarashi family, aren’t you?”

Mentally scrolling down a list of names from the old country, Iruka sadly shook his head. “The name doesn’t ring a bell,  but my parents were from a small village so … I guess it’s possible.”

“Lovely little family, the Mitarashis,” she said, never looking up from the task of rewrapping his hand. “They had two children, a daughter named Anko and a son, whose name escapes me presently – you look just like him though.”

“Pretty sure I was an only child, ma'am. Sorry ... must've left my manners in my back pocket today--" .  
  
"What are you mumbling about?"  
  
"I mean to say ... should have introduced myself earlier," he said straightening to his full height. "My name is--”

“Oi . . . that scrap of paper there,” she gestured to her left with their joined hands, “not yours, is it?”

 _Shouldn't be,_ he thought, clumsily thumbing through his  fob pocket.  After a brief, one-handed search of his jacket and pants pockets rendered nothing, Iruka excused  himself to give chase.  Balmy breezes rolling off the sea lifted the paper, making it skip along the ground, bumping it over and through clumps of wild grass.

Tsunade stifled a giggle behind her hand watching the intrepid hunter take off on a stumbling, twisting chivy, always lagging three steps behind in the wake of his quarry. She had to pinch her arm to prevent an outburst of laughter when a wayward gust banged the paper against a nearby tree trunk.  _Surely, he’ll capture it now,_ she thought. Alas, was the young man was left standing at the base of the tree, his fists at his hips, looking up helplessly as the paper ascended on the back of a playful wind. Just outside his reach, it slapped smack in the middle of a bough, seven feet from the ground.

 _Poor little biscuit,_ she found herself thinking when his shoulders drooped in defeat. “I take it that was something sentimental.”

“Not really,” he sighed, “just a map.”

After a third attempt at jumping up and grabbing the paper failed, Iruka made another half circuit around the overgrown acorn factory. “It took her so long to finish,” he said more so to the oak than Tsunade. “She even added notes of interest . . . landmarks and such. Now I’ll have to go back and tell her I’ve lost the darn thing.”

The outbreath of resignation and the hollow sound of his back colliding with the scaly ridges of the tree’s bark when he sagged against it, tapped into Tsunade’s maternal side against her will. “Looks like I’m not the only one who had a rough start to the morning. You almost sliced your hand open for breakfast, pert near knocked an old woman to the ground and now you’ve lost your little map.”

He cut his eyes at her, looking all the world like a little child who’d broken his favorite toy.

“If it weren’t so early in the day, I’d invite you back to my office for a stiff drink; looks like you could use one.”

“I'll have to pass,” he said turning to face her with his arms huffily folded across his chest. “Not going to let this drive me to drink just yet. I’m sure if I keep heading in this direction, I’ll find what I was looking for--”

“So, you _aren’t_ from here . . . no wonder I had trouble placing your face.”

“I'm not exactly a tourist either ma’am,” he said, pushing away from his sad post. “I was born here … been away for ages though and the territory has changed so much --”

“Well I’m overdue for a good deed this month, maybe I can help. What is it you’re looking for young man?”

“The fire brigade,” came the almost inaudible response when he cast a final glance over his shoulder.

Taking into account his slight build, natty attire and overall carriage, this time Tsunade didn’t hold back her laughter. “Don’t tell me,” she snickered, “ _you’re_ looking to sign on as a volunteer?”

**Recherché**

Beneath them, a duvet of emerald grasses; above them, azure skies and slow moving puffy white clouds. Kotetsu lazily sprawled while Izumo rested at the base of an ancient elm, both men savoring the quiet made possible by Genma’s departure.

Rolling onto his side he smiled and said, “Well, am I a genius or what Zumo?”

“More like ‘or what,’ as in what were you thinking?” Izumo bumped his head against the smooth bark behind him, “I thought we agreed the ‘coconut layer cake’ bit was only for use in emergency situations.”

“I was on the verge of garroting Genma just to keep him quiet. Doesn’t that count as an emergency?”

“Tetsu you’re too much, " he laughed shaking his head. "For goodness sakes, he's is an undertaker! With you making out like a scoop of lard in a hot skillet, it was all I could do to keep him from running over and measuring you for a coffin.”

“Yeah, well with a dolt like him, I had to lay it on thick, " he said flexing his fingers beneath his head and flopping onto his back. "In the end, it came down to results; you needed ‘em …I got ‘em.”

“Overly dramatic if you ask me--”

“Says the man who makes up nonsense words like ‘narcolepsy’ and ‘cataplexy’ on the fly – what the heck was that about?”

Without even looking, Izumo sent a badly aimed punch that connected with his friend’s elbow. “Weren’t made up words you goof ... they’re real medical terms for real physiological conditions which you faked rather poorly.”

"Blah, blah, blah,” Kotetsu teased shaking off the prickly sensations running along his arm. “Whatever you say Doctor Killjoy _.”_

“Never mind thats, we'll need to get a move on eventually.”

“Now you’re talking sense. After a short nap, I say we grab a bite to eat and head back to the inn.”

“Nap time will have to wait,” Izumo laughed. "Right now, we’re going to the Fire Temple.”

Kotetsu sprang up like a trip wire. “You loopy from the altitude or something? Genma is long gone and the man he was talking about obviously isn’t the one Iruka is looking for. What possible reason have we to go to the Temple now?”

Maneuvering himself into a standing position, Izumo stretched out his back. “Inspector Morino and the Coroner believe that’s where we’re headed, that’s why. It’s not gonna hurt our cause to be seen talking with the monks for a few minutes--”

“Come on man! We climbed up the side of a small mountain and listened to Genma natter on for what felt like seventeen hours. You’re the goof if you think I’m gonna tramp all the way over there to--”

“Have you forgotten we’re being tailed by a pair of constables?  We'll seem more suspicious if we don't follow through. Now, quit your whining and get up.”

"Don't know why I let you talk me into these crazy things, Zumo.  You’re a gigantic pain in the butt, you know that?" 

“Yes, yes, I'm a pain, but results my friend,” he said extending his hand to the scowling Kotetsu, “that’s all that matters, right?”

**Recherché**

Notes:

Mitragyna Parvifolia: a deciduous tree found in Asia and Malaysia; the bruised leaves of the tree promote healing of wounds and alleviate pain.  Extracts of the tree’s fruit can be used as an anti-inflammatory agent.

Calendula Officinalis: marigolds, to you and me; the flowers are considered a beneficial antiseptic and help to reduce inflammation.

Yarrow root: fresh leaves of this flowering plant were applied to wounds to stop bleeding and fight fever; it also has antimicrobial properties.

Chivy (British): to run about.


	13. Recherche: Mending Fences, Building Bridges Part Two

Sagging against the door, he sucked in a breath. “Idate … Idate! Where are you?”

“Third stall from the right! Oi! Fetch my wife or Tsume … this one’s presenting breech too. Go on then, shake a leg,” he said, peering over the stall.

“Ibiki? What … what are you doing here?”

“Sign out front says you’re looking for a stable hand.”

“Been meaning to change that sign,” he said with a wry smile. “Hmm … long arms, stocky build … reckon you’ll do in a pinch. We need to repel this foal, think you can handle it?”

“I’ve forgotten more than you’ll ever know about horses, sonny boy.”

“Big talk for a soon to be outta work Police Inspector. Get over here, old timer, show me what you can do.”

“Let’s be clear, they haven’t run me out of office yet,” he said pushing himself away from the stable door. “And I’ll thank you to show some respect for your elders.” In less than twenty strides, Ibiki was inside the stall, sliding between the wall and his brother’s back. “The key to calming a mare is to speak softly with authority.”

“You don't say.  Here I’ve been doing this wrong for twenty odd years; thanks for the tip, kind stranger.”

“Smart aleck kid,” Ibiki chuckled.

“Know it all geezer,” Idate whispered with a grin. “We haven’t much time. I’ve tried to keep her standing so the foal could turn on its own, but it’s not working.”

“Understood,” Ibiki said as he slipped on the sleeves. “Is this her first time? I mean, she seems awfully underdeveloped--”

“That's cause she’s not quite a yearling; we didn’t even know she was pregnant til the membranes broke. Barely had time to get her in the stall and wrap the tail.”

“Hold her steady now. With the next contraction, I'll check the position of the foal.”

“Gotta feeling we’re going to lose this one too, Biki. Mare in the first stall dropped a stillborn twenty minutes ago.”

"Don’t give up yet, I feel a heartbeat. What I don’t understand is why they’re foaling so late in the season.”

“Who the hell knows why anything is going on around here lately? The whole of nature is out of whack I tell ya.   We got sheep dropping their wool, roosters brooding eggs and cows mounting bulls; abnormal is the new normal.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating, Idate ...things can’t be that bad--”

“Oh yeah? Talk to me about it after you’ve spent months trapped in one house with twelve Inuzuka and their dogs. The howling and barking all night every night is driving me crazy and their dogs are a pain in the ass too.”

“Why’d you invite ‘em in the first place?”

“Weren’t you listening?  Told you about the weirdness with all the animals didn't I?  Our caseload got so heavy, Tsume had to relocate the veterinary clinic just to help us out.”

“Caseload? So it’s not just this farm?”

“Nope … everybody out this way is having problems with livestock. Seems the closer a farm is to the cemetery, the more problems. Speaking of which, how’s it going on your end?”

“Just about got the foal turned. How long has this been going on, Idate?”

“ Ever since they started excavating land and renovating that big house east of the cemetery seems like.  Eight, nine months, I reckon--"

“The old Hatake estate?”

“You been living in a cave or somethin'?  I heard the Hatake heir moved home from England almost a year ago.   The last of his line, you know; folks say he’s looking to find a wife and start a family.”

“You said something about the cemetery earlier. When I was out in the forest this morning, I saw something that struck me odd.  Shit! The contractions getting stronger … foal’s not completely turned!”

**Recherché**

Tsunade smiled and patted him on the shoulder “I didn’t mean to laugh out loud, young man, but the fire brigade typically accept volunteers of a sturdier stock; farmhands, millwrights,longshoremen.  Brawny, illiterate types, with strong backs to fetch water and calloused hands to clear away debris.  You strike me as someone inclined to cerebral pursuits, not manual labor.”

“Rest assured ma'am, I wasn’t looking to volunteer.  I’m writing a thesis on the structural integrity of a genus of hardwoods from this region, Konoha in particular. Boring stuff, really … comparing the tensile strength of timber used in framing, mortise and tenon joints--”

“Yes, but the fire brigade? If you don’t mind me saying, that’s an odd place for research; are you … an architect or a building inspector?”

“I’m neither that creative or crafty,"  he said rubbing at the nape of his neck.   “Archeology and anthropology … those are my fields of study; my thesis examines how hardwoods like the sugi, endure stresses over time. I hope to prove cured timber from this region rivals stone and mortar construction in terms of load bearing capacity, not to mention the changes in its chemical composition after exposure to water and--”

“You’re right,” she said, waving off his commentary with a laugh, “that sounds incredibly boring. However, I’m sure Konoha’s archives would better serve your needs--”

“I don’t doubt it ma’am, but between you and me,” he leaned close to whisper, “I didn’t want to waste such a beautiful day stuck inside a stuffy library.”

“I see,” she laughed, “shirking your duties, eh? I’m doing the same thing. Had every intention of avoiding social interaction and carving out a patch of quiet for myself. But since that didn’t work well,” she said, turning to the bench for her newspaper, “I’d best get back to my office.”

He followed a few steps behind her, weighing the propriety of playing escort, opting instead to circle around and affect a polite bow. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance ma’am.”

“Likewise, I’m sure. By the way, what did you say your name –-?” In a flash, her face went ashen and a sneer graced her lips. "Bastards! Should have known those sons of a rabid hyena would show up today!”

“Ma’am,” he said, following her line of sight, “is everything ... alright?”

Though the plaza hummed with activity, it was hard to miss a throng of people bowing respectfully as they gathered around three odd looking gentlemen. One, a tall sickly pale man with greasy long black hair, outfitted in a silk kimono of purple. Behind him stood a bespectacled shorter man in a dark green kimono; his hair a dirty grey. Iruka assumed him to be the other man’s valet, his stance protective as he held a parasol over his master with one hand and held back the crowd with the other. The third person, a much older man, his head and one arm sheathed in bandages; his good hand, held tightly a walking stick.

“The apothecary is three doors west of the Administrative complex,” she said crossing to Iruka’s left. “Follow the path from there and you’ll see the lumber mills in the distance -- the fire brigade is a quarter mile beyond there.”

She was gone by the time he raised himself from another bow, blending into the crowded plaza.

**Recherché**

Their meeting with the head monk, polite and brief, netted them a half cup of bitter tea each and a solemn pledge to pray for success in their endeavors.

“This ticks me off,” Kotetsu grumbled. “Took us an hour to get here, then we had to wait another half hour before we could talk with some old guy who looked like he was half-asleep. Bum rushed after ten minutes--”

“Tetsu, the head monk is a busy man; you saw the line of people waiting to--”

“A waste of time. Let’s get the hell outta here--”

“Psst!”

“Don’t hiss at me Zumo! We came, we talked, we drank some decidedly awful tea and--”

“Psst!”

“I swear to the gods, if that’s Genma . . . I’m not gonna be responsible for my actions!”

Izumo grabbed a fistful of Kotetsu’s jacket tail as he sauntered toward the open-air passageway. “Hold your horses . . . look, over there.”

One of the monks in training peered around a stone pillar, beckoning them to draw near. “Isn’t that the same guy who ushered us into the meeting Tetsu?”

“How should I know?  All these guys in white robes look the same to me.”

“Well that one still has his hair.  Come on, let’s see what he’s on about.”

They followed him until they came to a secluded area near the gardens; looking around warily, the young monk turned and bowed low. “Sirs, I am Michio. I apologize for listening in on your conversation and for the head monk's rebuff.” He bowed again, deeper this time.

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Kotetsu laughed, “we’re not easily offended.”

“Yes, there's no need to apologize,” Izumo told him, returning the bow. “Talk of monsters and such tends to fascinate or frighten--”

“Please sirs, ” Michio said as he nervously scanned the grounds. “The monsters you spoke of ... they’re called gaki. We’re taught to believe they’re pitiable creatures to be treated with compassion, not fear. It is also our belief they can be rehabilitated through prayers and sacrifices. The head monk is a hardliner in this regard and it was for that reason he could no longer stand to hear you speak of them as murderous entities.”

Wishing to leave as quickly as possible, Kotetsu smiled saying, “Gotcha. Look, thanks for the--”

“We celebrated Obon recently, the head monk led us through segaki--”

“No wonder the scent of incense was so strong in his private quarters--”

“What are you two talking about Zumo? The hell is Segaki?”

“A ritual the monks perform to stop the suffering of the gaki and force them to return to their places of torment . . . am I right, Michio?”

“Yes sir, gaki are depicted in paintings as having skeletal bodies, tiny necks or throats with engorged stomachs and abnormally small mouths. This is the reason they’re called _hungry ghosts --_ their appetites can never be sated no matter how hard they try.  There is also another, higher class of gaki capable of assuming human form and walking among us undetected.”

“So, you’re telling us that--”

“I believe as you do sirs, gaki are demons indeed; no amount of prayer, of leaving sacrifices of food and beverages for them can change that. My training got underway three months ago and by the Temple’s standards, my mind is still . . . unenlightened; perhaps time will alter my opinion. The constables have no idea what they’re up against. I must go now. If ever there is something I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Just keep praying,” said Kotetsu. “Gotta feeling we’re gonna need it.”

**Recherché**

Tsunade dug her nails into her palms. “You _gentlemen_ looking for me?”

“Ah, so it is you Lady Tsunade,” Danzou said when he turned to face her.  “Almost couldn’t tell you apart from the common strumpets around here, what with your hair flowing about your shoulders--”

 “May I remind you that you’re speaking to the Governor of this territory,” she hissed, “you will watch your tone and your words, lord Shimura.”

Skillfully playing to the gathering crowd, Danzou staggered backward.  “Bullying a feeble old man, how cowardly.”

With the townsfolk pretending to go about their business even as they cast wary glances her way, Tsunade forced herself to smile.  Stepping closer to Danzou, she laughed and said, “How you do go on, _sir._ ”

“Lady Tsunade, I never speak in jest and that you know right well.  We’ve come to discuss a matter--”

“Yes, it’s dreadfully urgent,” Orochimaru chimed in. “And a rather an indelicate topic of discussion for a crowded thoroughfare.”

Her stomach roiled as he took a proffered silken handkerchief from his manservant and delicately covered his nose.

“Well,” Danzou said tapping his stick against the pavement, “is it because we aren’t European envoys that you hold us captive here under the blazing sun?”

“I’m certain the fault is mine,” came her snide reply.  “Right this way, gentlemen.  And though I loathe the stench your sun warmed bodies will leave behind, won’t you join me inside?”

 

Notes:

A mare typically lays on her side to give birth; a normal delivery can take anywhere from 15-45 minutes after the membranes rupture. One foreleg appears first, the other one six inches behind it and then the head. ‘Repelling the foal’ - whenever the hind limbs and rear end of a foal present first, (breech), it must be pushed back far enough in the uterus that it might turn about. If not done properly or quickly, the foal and/or mare may perish.

Strumpet: (archaic) a prostitute or promiscuous woman.

Michio: “man on the correct path.”

Obon: a festival celebrated in mid-August, it is believed the spirits of their ancestors return to this world to visit their living relatives. Obon dances are performed, graves are visited and offerings of fruit and vegetables are left by household shrines and at temples. At the end of Obon, floating lanterns are placed in lakes and rivers to guide the spirits back to their world.

Segaki: “feeding the hungry ghosts.” A Buddhist tradition performed to stop the suffering of the gaki or muenbotoke (the dead who have no living relatives), tormented by insatiable hunger. The ritual forces them to return to their portion of hell or keep the spirits of the dead from falling into the realm of the gaki. The ritual is held at Buddhist temples and there is a custom to place segaki-dana (rack for gaki) or gaki-dana (shelf for gaki) at home and present offerings (traditionally rice and water) for hungry ghosts who are wandering in this world as muenbotoke during Urabone or Obon.

 


	14. Recherche: Countdown to Showdown

As afternoon stretched toward early evening, Iruka paced outside the inn. _Who knew they’d move this quickly?  Damn it!  I hate keeping secrets, but all the pieces aren’t in place yet. Wanted to hold it together longer before I had to say something, but now--_

“Iruka, you haven’t taken up smoking, again have you?”

Startled, he turned to see the scowl on Izumo’s face.  “No, of course not,” he laughed.

“Alright … so, what’s troubling you?”  

“It’s nothing ...  um, where’s Tetsu?”

“Nothing huh,” he said stepping in front of Iruka, “then why are you walking around in circles out here?”

“Because if I walked in triangles, people would think me mad. Now don’t trouble yourself … I’m just trying to sort a few things out is all.”

Catching hold of the other man’s uninjured forearm as he attempted to walk past him, Izumo looked him straight in the eye saying, “I could always tell when you were stressed or lying.  And right now, you’re a bit of both.”

“I promise … all is well and I’ll tell you everything once Tetsu gets here, okay?”

Izumo still held tight his arm, “Everything?”

“I’ll spill my guts like a fishwife does Biwa trout--”

“Now you’re making me hungry,” he smiled as he released his grip.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” Kotetsu said as he rounded the corner of the building.  “Your cousin’s a sadist … did he tell you what he made me do today?  What? Why are you looking at me like that … what’s going on?”

“We were about to organize a search party,” said Izumo as he turned to face him. 

“And the jokes keep coming. So, why are we standing out here? We paid through the week, didn’t we Ruka?”

“Yes, everything’s squared away with the inn and whatever Zumo did, I’m hoping a hot meal and a few drinks will make things right.”

“Now you’re talkin’ …I’m starving.”

“We’ll have to go somewhere our conversation won’t be overheard,” he said inclining his head toward the inn.  “You up for it?”

Kotetsu was already walking toward the inn’s entrance.  “Long as the food’s good, the alcohol is flowing and you’re buying--”

“Excellent! I passed a little diner up there by the lumber mill. We’ll have no worries about eavesdroppers on the way--”

“More walking?” Kotetsu whined as he turned about. “Good god man!  The blisters on my feet have blisters.”

“Don't mind him,” Izumo smiled as he wrapped his arm around his friend's neck.  “He’s been a grouch since we left the Temple.”

A snarl and a sharp elbow in the side freed Kotetsu from the chummy gesture.  “Only a grouch cause you didn’t let me eat nothing.”

“No time for horsing around you two,” he said walking away from the building.  “We have to get moving if we're going to that tsuya tonight--”

“Crashing a wake?  Kinda creepy, I mean, we didn’t know that woman--”

“Tetsu, what if I told you there’s a good chance Hatake will be there tonight?”

He paused at the mouth of the path leading from the inn.  “You know me … I’m up for it.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear because I need to look him straight in the eye tonight and--”

 “And do what, Iruka?  Embarrass yourself again?  The Temple is hardly the place to engage our enemy,” Izumo reasoned.  “I swear … you’re starting to sound more and more like Tetsu ... foolhardy--”

“I’m not foolhardy, okay …just hate wasting my time. But hell, Ruka, even I know public confrontation is a stupid idea.  I mean, for god sakes… this is a demon we’re talking about.”

“Hatake already knows we’re here,” Iruka calmly whispered.  “Paid me a visit--”

“What? You’ve seen him?  That why you were so anxious earlier?”

“One of the reasons, Zumo and no, Hatake and I didn’t have a face to face meeting.  When I got back to the inn a while ago, I discovered both the valise and my father’s portfolio were tampered with; thankfully, nothing was missing.”

“Good,” Kotetsu growled as he cracked his knuckles, “least Hatake knows we mean business--”

“No, that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Izumo warned.  “We need to be careful, Hatake can use that information against us.”

“Give it a rest old man, not like he’ll run to the constables with this information.”

"You’re both correct … sort of,” Iruka said as he stepped between them.  “For now, Hatake has the advantage over us … but not for much longer.  We’re gonna stop him before he takes another victim.  Come … walk with me while I explain.”

**Recherché**

At the door of the antechamber, Kinoe softly said, “My lord ... all is in readiness. Does master wish to bathe now?” 

Soft light from his lantern suffused the foot of the bed, surrounding the master with an otherworldly glow as he sat up, silken sheets pooling at his waist.

 “Afterwards," his master said. “I have need to spend my wrath before tonight’s solemnities, so I’ve summoned the Yasha to the upstairs bedchamber.”

Watching his lord emerge naked from a tangle of sheets, a pleasant tingle ran along Kinoe’s spine; an uncomfortable tightness spread through his loins as the master stretched his upper body.  His breath caught in his throat at the realization of lord Hatake frolicking with a small army of nubile Yasha.  

 _Soon,_ he thought _, I’ll stand inside the secret compartment, witnessing the master’s pleasure surging through his body as he plunges deep his--_

“Are we understood then? Keep the downstairs servants occupied and away from the second floor.”

“Yes, of course my lord,” he breathed.   “How well I remember the last time; blood splattered walls … the feeding frenzy of the Yasha, dismembered corpses littering the hallway, all because those unfortunate souls ran in answer to the screams issuing from your quarters.” With the back of his free hand, Kinoe dabbed away a trail of drool from the corner of his mouth.  “It was rapturous.”

“So, Umino … think he’ll show his face tonight?”

 “I … I have no doubt my lord,” he stammered.  “Who would not wish to be in your presence?”

“Have you taken leave of your senses, Kinoe or do voyeuristic thoughts cloud your memory? You do realize, every fiber of Umino’s being is dedicated to eradicating me, right?”

“My lord, he is but a weak and foolish human... no match for a numen--”

 “Weak, you say? And foolish?  Hardly.  Humans are unpredictable … that makes them dangerous. You still bear the scars from his father’s dagger, do you not?”

While the master spoke, Kinoe’s fingers flew to the thick puckered skin along his breastbone. "Yes, my lord, but I wear these scars with pride, as they were sustained to protect--"

"As if I needed your protection. I simply went to talk to Tadashi, tried to convince him to continue the research after he and my father had a falling out. That fool ...uttered a curse and drew a blade. You stepped into a fight that wasn't yours, Kinoe and  those scars are the result of your own impulsiveness."

"Master, I never understood why you didn’t take his life that night--”

“You still speak as a fool, Kinoe.  I can find a replacement for you anytime I choose ... remember that,” he said standing beside the bed. “Umino Tadashi’s life was in the hands of my father … that's why I couldn't kill him. However, his son belongs to me. Make no mistake, the younger Umino has a heart set on revenge; he’s proven himself a hot-tempered, quick-thinking and resourceful human. Yes, my quarry is wily and brimming with fire.  How I live for the thrill of the hunt, for unlike you were, Umino represents an intellectual challenge as well; someone worthy of my interest.”

With bowed head, he answered, “It is as you say, my lord.  I am forever grateful for your tolerance.  With your permission, I go now to prepare the upper bedchamber.”

“Begone … oh, and Kinoe--”

“Yes, master?”

“Do try to control yourself this evening as you spy on my activities.  Your heavy breathing and choked off moans of release inhibit the Yasha’s enjoyment.”

Kinoe dropped to his knees, his forehead inches from the slate floor.  “My lord … I had no idea you knew of my … I mean, thank you for not revoking this wonderful privilege, master.”

 _What a perverse little creature you are,_ thought Hatake as his servant withdrew.  

**Recherché**

“Still drinking heavily, Biki?”  Tsume asked pushing a flask of sake toward him.

“I wouldn’t say heavily--”

“Mother please, that’s not appropriate dinner conversation.”

“What? Ibiki was the only man who could drink me under the table …god, I miss those days.”

“Yes … well,” Hana politely cleared her throat as she turned to Ibiki.  “It's so nice having the family together again.”

“I’d forgotten what an excellent cook you are, Hana … thanks for the reminder. And,” he said glancing at his pocket watch, “I also forgot how early dinner is on the farm. My apologies … afraid I’ll have to eat and run.”  

“What’s that?  Hot date, Biki?”

“Sadly, I’ve little time for romance these days, Tsume.  Gotta show my ugly puss at the tsuya tonight.”

 “Right.  Shame what happened to that Hyuga girl,” she mumbled with a shake of her head.  “So, you and your brother worked things out?”

“You’re meddling, Mother,” Hana snapped. “If they don’t wish to discuss it, we shouldn’t either.  Let’s not dredge up ancient history.”  

“It’s alright my lamb," Idate said as he squeezed her hand.  "I’m sure everybody around the table remembers our very public falling out.”

“Everybody except me,” Tsume said.  “Go on then, spare no detail.”

“Alright Mother, that’s enough!”

Laying aside his chopsticks, Idate dropped his hand beneath the table and patted Hana’s knee.  “I don’t mind talking about it, and considering today’s events, I’m sure we could all use a good laugh.  Whole thing was kinda silly in retrospect.    You see, Ibiki thought I resented him for leaving me to run the family business … I did for a time.  Despite that, I was always proud of my brother and a little jealous of him too.  He ran off and saw the world; I envied him that.  However,” he smiled, raising the back of Hana’s hand to his lips, “I never would’ve met the love of my life had I’d been gallivanting about like was.”

 “For the love of mud --- I’m tryin’ to eat here,” Kiba said.  “All that mushy stuff makes my stomach do flips."

“You should be used to us by now.  One of these days you’ll be glad Idate taught you how to treat a woman right--”

“Well it aint today Sis.  Okay that’s it,” he growled pushing away his plate, “I’ve lost my appetite.”

In one smooth motion, Tsume stood, reached across the table, flicked at his ear with her fingers and sat back down. “Told ya … it’s a sin to waste food, boy!  Now shut up and eat,” she barked.  “Go on Idate.”

“Yes … well, after Ibiki got discharged from the military, he moped around feeling sorry for himself … turned into a hopeless drunk.  That never sat right with me, I wanted to beat him senseless--”

“You did get in a few good licks,” Ibiki said.  “Knocked me on my ass twice, if I remember correctly--”

“Yeah …I did, didn’t I?”

“Wait a minute,” Tsume laughed, “this shrimp beat you? What … were you knee walking drunk, Biki?”

“Nope, happened during a rare moment of sobriety--”

“Gotcha … you let him win.  Knew there had to be a logical explanation for that--”

“Moving on,” Idate interrupted, “what brings you here, Ibiki?”

“Grandmother’s stories,” he said around a mouthful of sweet taro root. “You remember any of ‘em?”

“How could I forget? She used to scare us silly with her tales of strange creatures roaming the countryside, drinking the blood of animals and lapping up children’s tears.”

“Seems our fair Governor thinks those same creatures are responsible for the deaths of eight young women--”

 “Horseshit,” Tsume snorted.  “Everybody knows we got a spree killer on the loose.  So, why the hell haven’t you caught him yet?”

“Ignore her, Ibiki.  I’ve every confidence you’ll catch this maniac--”

“Hmm … don’t know about that, little brother. 

I’m starting to think the Governor might be right.”

 

Notes:

Yasha: female vampire-bat of Japanese lore.  A woman could become one of these creatures if she allowed anger to lower her status in rebirth.

Suffused: to spread over as with liquid or light.


	15. Recherche: Coming Apart Together

“Good, you’re still here, Ryota,” he said sauntering into the constabulary.  “We need to talk.”

“As I haven’t time to shoot the breeze, Inspector, you might wanna take a gander at this one first,” he said pushing a pile of papers near the side of his desk.  “The rest just need signatures.”

“Thanks.”

“Sounds like you’re smiling,” he said scrawling a note in the margins of a report. “Not a rumble of complaint either, huh? Guess that means the family is doing well.”

The slightest of grins pulled at Ibiki’s lip as he scanned through the documents.  “How’d you know where I was?”

“Please … I can read you like a twelve penny novel, that and you smell like an unmucked stable.  Hope you plan to bathe before the tsuya.”

“We’ll see. So, Hagane and Kamizuki went to the Temple, did they?  And what’s this?  Umino went to the Fire Brigade … why?”

Ryota shrugged his shoulders.  “What am I, a mind-reader?  Maybe after speaking with the Governor he felt like volunteering.  More importantly, we still don’t have a positive identification on those remains.”

"Well that and the rest of this stuff can wait till tomorrow. We’re going to the tsuya--”

“Can’t …  evening watch commander’s late again.”

“We’ve three capable desk sergeants to handle things in your absence. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes; should give you enough time to issue orders and clear your desk.”

 

Iruka and company follow the smell of the incense rolling down the mountain and the wails of the mourning women rising from the quiet town to the Temple court which by now was a swarming knot of humanity.

“We’ll never find him in this crowd, ‘Ruka.  I say we call it a night--”

“Maybe he’s right,” Izumo said. “No shame in retreating until we can devise a better plan.”

“No, we’ve come too far already.  I know he’s here; an image to maintain and all that rot.  Besides, his absence might seem suspect.  No confrontation, hear me Tetsu?”

“Yeah, yeah ... I know the drill.”

They slowly made their way through the crowd, until at last they stood directly across the room from the grieving family.  

 Once the chief priest concluded recitation of the sutra, splinter groups formed; some consoling the family, others making small talk.  At opposite ends of the enclosure, Tsunade and Ibiki acknowledge one another with polite nods as they’re pushed along with the flow of the exiting crowd.  

To the left of the altar, was a cluster of important looking men.  Standing head and shoulders over them was their target, Hatake Kakashi.  Hair of silver, slicked back, an ebony eye patch concealing his left eye; his pale skin enveloped in a kimono of black silk.  He smiled amiably and nodded politely as inane discussion floated about him.   Outside this small group and to Hatake’s right stood an olive-skinned man who spent his time scanning the crowd. 

“Iruka … there he is.”

“Yeah, I see him, Zumo," he snarled.  “I have to get closer … wanna make sure he sees me.”

“Damn it,” he said grabbing him by the wrist, “don’t let your temper get the better of you.” 

“I won’t.”

 

Standing slightly to the rear of the crowd on the same side of the room as Iruka, Ryota nudged the Inspector in the ribs. “Umino and friends at three o’clock,” he said.

“Yeah, I see ‘em. Don’t know what the hell possessed them to come here tonight.  Be prepared to wrangle them away from the family … can’t have ‘em saying something stupid to the Hyuga.”

“Too late, they’re on the move--”

“Let’s go, Ryota.”

 

Though he never outwardly acknowledged his presence, Hatake felt the heated stares aimed his way and he smiled.

 _Confronting me in a crowded arena, he has the guts his father lacked._   _The Inspector’s here too so I doubt Umino will make a scene, but time will tell._

 

“Lady Tsunade, see that young man moving through the crowd?  He’s the one who wanted to meet with you while you were having breakfast with the Inspector this morning.”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Shizune.  There are a great many young men walking about.”

“Right there, ma’am … that’s Dr. Umino.”

“Him?  Can’t be.  That’s the young man I told you about from the park.”

“I don’t think so, I sat right across the table from him today and I know for sure ... that is Dr. Umino.”

“Well, one of us is obviously mistaken.   Go fetch him, Shizune … we’ll get to the bottom of this right now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

 

As Ibiki and Ryota move in, Genma blocks their progress.  “Sorry I didn’t get those remains identified Inspector," he said.  "Hectic day. It turned out well though don’t you think?”

Ibiki pushed past him without a word.

They’d covered half the distance of the Temple when Kinoe bumped into Iruka.  “Don’t be a fool all your life, Umino,” he whispered as he passed by.

“Hey, watch where you’re going buddy,” Kotetsu hissed.  “What an ass … he didn’t even apologize--”

“That was Hatake’s right hand man … issuing a warning,” Iruka said.  Ignoring the threat, he pressed closer to the place where Hatake stood.  After an exchange of glances and a polite smile from his target, suddenly, Iruka was thrown back on his heels; Kotetsu and Izumo dropped to their knees, clutching at their chests.  

As a crowd gathered round the two men struggling to stand, Kinoe and his master slip away.

“The hell was that?” Kotetsu groaned.

“The power of a demon,” Iruka panted as he reached down for Izumo’s hand.  “I apologize, forgot to give you guys talismans--”

“Well, he wasn’t trying to kill us,” Izumo said.  “Bought himself time to get away, is all.”

Suddenly a man dressed in white robes broke through the crowd; Michio, the young monk. “Quickly … come with me,” he said.

 

“What the hell was that about, Ibiki?”

“Looked as if they were struck with great force by something.”

 “Shouldn’t we follow them?” Ryota asked as the three men limped off.

“No, they stayed away from the family, that was my only concern.  Raidou and Aoba will continue their surveillance and we’ll soon find out what they were up to.  Come on, let’s get out of here.”

 

“Well, Shizune ... where is he?”

“I don’t understand ma’am.  They were standing less than ten feet away from me and then they just ... disappeared.”

“Fine, I’m about to pull my own disappearing act.   See if you can find Ibiki ...  tell him to meet me first thing in the morning.  I’m going home.”

 


	16. Recherche: Reflection

Inside the salon, as the aroma of pine fills the room, Maito stands by the fireplace. Beside Kinoe’s vacant desk, seconds tick down on the clock as footsteps in the hall increase in volume.   From the corridor, there comes a swish of leather.

 _The cat o nine,_ he thinks, quickly removing his jacket and shirt.

Once the door creaks open, trembling, he dropped to his knees. The Master’s footsteps, hushed against thick carpet, his presence overwhelming as he draws closer; waves of anger rolling from his body, push Maito prostrate against the tiled hearth. Logs filled with sap crackle and pop, sizzling against his skin.  The tips of Master’s shoes halt inches from the crown of his head and his body braces for the swift kicks and rapid strikes which will surely come.  

His lord stands before him, considering for a moment and then retreats.

To his left comes the noise of hearth warmed leather yielding under the Master’s weight.  And now, is there only the sound of his frantic breathing and the dull thud of the Master’s fingers drumming against the arm of the chair.

“My lord … your wrath is just and I, your humble servant deserves--”

“Maito, stand to your feet.   And for heaven sake... put your clothes back on.”

“But Master, I cannot stand before you … my shame and guilt, they are too great. If it pleases my lord,” he said crawling on his belly, “I shall plead for the punishment due me.”  With his breath blowing back into his face from the bridge of the master’s shoe, once more he begged, “My lord. I’ve made a fatal blunder.  Cast me into the fire, gouge out the eyes which deceived you … cut out the tongue which uttered falsehoods, only do not cast me from your presence, I pray thee.”

“You’ve done nothing worthy of punishment.”

“Yes, but Master … in your hand, the whip--”

“This?  Kinoe left it on a side table in the hall,” he said with a soft chuckle.  “Come now, you know I need no weapons to chastise an unruly servant.  Take your seat beside me.”

Eyes lowered, Maito reached back for his shirt, quickly covering himself.  As the tiny whip falls to the floor, it is accompanied by the squeal of cork against glass, the scent of cognac and the gentle fall of amber liquid splashing against a snifter’s balloon. With a gulp, the empty glass now settles on the marble topped table between the two chairs.

“My lord, your anger, I cannot bear it.”

“My anger, has nothing to do with you. Spent the last three hours trapped in a hallowed place, filled to the brim with self-righteous humans …  sickening.”

Maito pushed himself up; kneeling now, his forearms stretch before his body and his lips graze the carpet. “Forgive me Master.   The information I provided was incorrect … I do not deserve your kindness.”

“If I have to repeat myself, you shall have no more of my kindness. Sit.”

“Yes, my lord.”  Clambering to his feet, he dared not meet the eyes of his master. Once more, liquid flows from the decanter and a snifter is nudged into his hand as he takes his seat.

Refilling his glass, Lord Hatake looked to his faithful servant.  “Do you know why I returned to Konoha?”

“Of course, master.  As the head of this clan, you must take a bride and provide heirs--”

“It is but one reason,” he said as the glass rose to his lips.  “I came home to set things right.”  

“Yet I erred Master and now--”

“Hush.  I influenced your supposed error and you gave me the means to exact vengeance.”

“I am certain I do not understand, my lord.  The Hyuga girl’s death will undoubtedly spur enhanced vigilance by the constables and their deputies; even now are they casting broader and tighter nets over the territory--”

“Ever watched a man’s heart break and crumble to pieces Maito?  Ever stood at the right hand of a man as his spirit withered and faded with the passage of each new day?”

“No, master.”

“It was the year before I tasted the blood of my first kill.  My father lost the love of his life and I, a mother, at the hands of a Hyuga.  In days of old, the Hyuga possessed powerful amulets, capable of ensorcelling the most puissant of demons.”

“Do these things still exist, my lord?”

“Several clans had amulets, kept only as heirlooms from bygone times; the Uchiha, Akimichi and Nara.  They never understood the power of those supposed trinkets, though the Hyuga did.  Long ago, the head of that impure family desired a parcel of land belonging to the Hatake; my father refused to sell it, choosing instead to gift the property to the Senju clan.  In retaliation for this slight, on the night of the Great Hunt ere my mother rose from her rest, she was abducted, her attendants slaughtered and a note left behind in her chambers.  My father went on a rampage, killing every Hyuga in the household, save two … a brother and sister hidden away by the servants.”

“Ah, yes master, how well I remember it now.”

“The other night, dressed in all her finery for a gathering with family and friends, Hitomi looked upon her father’s face with tears in her eyes for the angry words they’d exchanged the same evening.  Afterward, she gladly ran to meet me, surrendering herself to a hellish existence as my servant.  Such a purity in body and spirit, her blood, ambrosia as I took it into myself and now her soul ...forever mine.”  He raised his glass to the hearth in salute.  “For you my father.  At last, I’ve humbled the clan conceived in incest and propelled to prominence by witchcraft.  I’ve stripped a mother of her reason for living, a father of his will to rule and stolen from them the relics which might be used against my seed someday.  May the current head of that family know the pain of loss, may it gnaw through his bones and waste away his spirit from this time, until his dying breath.”

“And may your curse be as it was spoken Master,” he said lifting his glass in like manner.

“So many years apart, my parents perished in the exact same way; their bodies bound and exposed to the rays of the sun, till nothing remained except memories and ashes. My mother ... killed by the Hyuga; my father ... vanquished by an ancestor of the one who now hunts me.” He took another sip of his brandy and asked, “What have you learned about the son of Umino?”

“Not only did I verify his place of lodging, I saw with my own eyes, the book and weaponry. But the amulets you spoke of … if he possesses them as well, they must be hidden away in a separate location.”

“No doubt.  The younger Umino is no fool.  Have you other information to impart?”

“He and his companions have already met with the police and on the morrow, they have a meeting scheduled with the Governor.”

“How predictable these humans.  Though he did surprise me by showing up at the tsuya tonight; he even endeavored to approach me.”  Slowly did his hand rise, undoing the eye patch twined in silver strands.   “I could not allow that, for my first encounter with him will be on my terms.”  His eyes took on an eerie glow as he continued speaking.  “The scent of his blood, from a wound self-inflicted aroused not my hunger, but my thirst.” The hands gripping the bolsters of the chair become elongated, his nails transforming into hooked barbs and his voice deeper.  “Had to erect a barrier between us, ere control completely abandoned me.  But the smell of anger and fear pouring off his body ... intoxicating.  Surely you understand what that’s like?”

“I do, my lord.”

“Another surprise … Umino has the blood of an innocent.  A man nearly thirty years of age, untouched by a woman; no wonder every desire of his is funneled into fulfilling a vow to avenge his father.”

“My lord, with your permission, I will gladly dispatch them … the yokai are particularly anhungered.”

“Not just yet.  A cautious man is Inspector Morino; surely has them under surveillance.  If they vanish without a trace, a bumbling investigation by the constables will only hinder me.  No,” he grinned, “I have designed a torture exquisite for Umino and when the time is right shall I execute my plan.  For now, continue monitoring their movements. If you do well Maito, I will give his companions into your hands or rather, your belly.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

They sat in silence, watching the fire dance in the hearth as they sip at the calming brandy.

“I’ve managed to avoid these things for hundreds of years,” he said more to himself than Maito.  “But another ‘season’ is upon us and thanks to Kinoe, I’ll be subjected to a parade of vapid women and meaningless conversation. Damn him, he knows I loathe the idea of strangers wandering about my home, yet even this I’ve allowed.”

“It is possible your future bride will be in attendance, my lord. At least, that is my hope for your happiness.”

“Go now ... watch over my prey as he sleeps unafraid in his bed.”

“Yes, master.”  He fluidly rose, gathering up his jacket and bowing low before his lord.  Impulse dropped him to one knee, his forehead touching the back of the master’s hand. “I shall not fail you this time, my lord.”

Without warning and set on fire by the flames of hell itself, the collar about his neck constricted his windpipe.  

“Consider that incentive, Maito, a taste of the punishment which awaits should you fail.”

“You are most gracious, my lord,” he spluttered.

“Get thee about my business!”

Scuttling on all fours, the pain lessened as he reached the salon door.  There came the sound of glass breaking and the smell of blood as it ran down master’s arm.  Above it all, was rich, hearty laughter.

“Yes,” he heard the master say, “How I look forward to our first encounter …

spawn of Umino.”

Notes:

Yokai: class of supernatural monsters, spirits and demons. Yokai which can shapeshift are referred to as bakemono obake.

Ensorcell: to bewitch.

Puissant: powerful, mighty, potent.


	17. Recherche: Resumption

Life in Konoha carries on its normal pace; ships unload their cargo, children scurry off to school and farmers head out from barns to fields.  In the waiting area of the administrative complex, the atmosphere buzzes with the latest gossip; who wore what to the tsuya last night and how large would be the procession to the gravesite this morning.  Inside her private office, in a small handheld mirror, hazel eyes sparkle despite the puffiness beneath them; a smile beams bright, despite heaviness of heart.  

“Ma’am … Inspector Morino is waiting for you in the outer office. Should I prepare tea?”

“What seems his mood?”

“He was pleasant,  almost jovial, ma’am.”

“That’s not good. Run along now … tell him I’ll be there directly.  Oh, and hold off on the tea, Shizune; this meeting may not last long enough for that.”

A final look at the image in the mirror before a side drawer _shushed_ closed, a shaky hand smoothed down silk brocade as she stands. _No need for nerves,_ she thought rising from her desk.  _I’ll just walk right in there, tell him the truth and be done with it._ Passing through Shizune’s office, she paused to calm her breathing.   _Ibiki is a reasonable man, he’ll understand ... I hope._ Standing outside the conference room, clammy palmed and dry of mouth, she thought, _Well, here goes nothing._

With counterfeit confidence, she pushed open the door; a tight smile on her lips. “Morning, Inspector.  Please, keep your seat.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

 _Encouraging … he’s nervous too._ “Sorry we didn’t have a chance to talk after our little bust up, and then again  at the tsuya either,” she said, sitting across the table from him.  “Fortunately, time apart gave me a chance to think.”

“So,” he said with a slight smile, “you couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

“No," fell her relieved laugh against the table, "gnawed at me all night.  Felt terrible about the way we left things yesterday.”

“Yeah.  About that ma’am... I um ...shouldn’t have ... you know--”

“I started it,” she sighed.  “After that meeting with the Hyuga yesterday morning, I was sad and angry ... touchy about every little thing.  But I’ve come to a conclusion--”

“As have I, Lady Tsunade… you see--”

“I think you might be right,” they chorused.

“What? Ibiki… are you drunk?”

“No of course not ma’am. You?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she laughed, “slightly hungover is all.”  

His posture relaxed as he chuckled to himself.  “Thank goodness … convinced myself you were still angry; was tempted to clean out my desk before I came over here.”

A genuine smile spread across her lips as she settled back into the chair.  “What a couple of clunkers we are Ibiki.  We’re like concrete, all mixed up and set in our ways.”

 “Too true, ma’am."

“So, how’d you work off your aggravation?”

“You know me … I headed straight to the forests--”

“And I went to the park for some quiet time; failed spectacularly, by the by.  If only we could’ve met halfway … would’ve saved ourselves some grief.  Then again, I might not have met that interesting young man.”

“Speaking of interesting, I stumbled across something odd in one of the clearings--”

“Please don’t tell me you found more bones,” she said clutching at her Manju-netsuke **.**

“No, but what I saw led me back to the old family farm.  Going home felt good ... got my hands dirty, finally cleared the air with my brother.  We even sat around the dinner table going over stories our grandmother used to tell--”

“Ah, Ibiki, wish I could have gone with you.  I spent the afternoon trying not to punch two old men in their throats.”

“Huh? Yes, well … lots of strange things happening these days, ma’am.  Must be something in the air ... even the animals are feeling the effects of whatever the hell is going on.”

Staring off into space, she sighed, “Rumors abound about Hyuga Hiashi. They say he’s ready to give up his seat in local government; explains why Danzou and Orochimaru came sniffing around yesterday.”

“The two old men you mentioned earlier?”

“Bastards! All they want is power over the people and Hitomi’s death removed another obstacle to that goal.”

“Wait a minute.  You saying Danzou and Orochimaru played a role in her murder?”

“You’re surprised, Ibiki?”

“To hear you insinuate such a thing?  Yeah.  But to be honest, they were numbers one and two on my suspect list after the third murder--”

“Perverse and unscrupulous men ... they’d stop at nothing to get what they want.”

“Yes ma’am, but there were seven victims before Hitomi.  Even if they’d hired assassins from another nation, there’s no way--”  

“An attempt to show the randomness of a deranged mind,” she said leaning forward, her palms flush against the table.  “By instilling fear and unrest among the citizenry, they hope to turn them against the current administration.  Don’t tell me you didn’t know of the feud between the Shimura and the Senju--”

“Everybody knows that,” he said.  “Since the time of your great grandfather, the Shimura have tried wresting control of the territory from your family.  But surely even Danzou wouldn't resort to--”

“He thinks me weak because I'm a woman--”

“I doubt that.  The fact he's aligning himself with Orochimaru is testament to your strength.   But accusing them of murder is one hell of a stretch ma’am.”

“Well I’ll be damned, Ibiki.  By conceding these murders might be the work of deranged humans, I’m officially on your side ... and you’re still complaining?”

“No … it’s just … it might be easier proving these slayings were the work a vengeful spirit than pinning them on those oily worms.”

“Oh, and now you believe a murderous wraith is the culprit?”

“Not exactly, but I find myself leaning in that direction of late; explains why we could never find solid clues at the crime scenes.”

They slumped against their chairs, chuckling at one another and themselves.  

“What a difference a day makes,” she said.  “Not sure what to do now.  I’ve a meeting scheduled with Dr. Umino this afternoon; can’t cancel at the last minute--"

“A wise woman once told me to have an open mind about such things; said it wouldn’t kill me to hear the man out--”

“Throwing my words back in my face … nice touch Inspector.  So, you will be present at the meeting--?”

“I’d rather not, unless that’s an order.”

“Consider it a strong suggestion or a humble request, your choice.  I’ll send Shizune round soon as he arrives.”

  **Recherché**

Dressed in his funeral finery, Genma burst into the constabulary.  “Morning Ryota, the Inspector about?”

“Haven’t seen him,” he said without looking up from his papers.  “Something I can help you with?”  

“He’ll probably hand this off to you anyway.  Went back to the shop last night, couldn’t sleep you know … too keyed up from the tsuya; she looked good, didn’t she?”

“Like a slumbering princess.  So … you at the shop … couldn’t sleep?”

“Right, burned the midnight oil I did, cause I know how much the Inspector depends on me.”

Ryota rolled his eyes.  “So, what you got there, Genma?”

“You know, I aint heard tell of that many hunters gone missing of late, you?”

“Just gimme the damn thing, please.”

“Here,” he said proudly.  “Read it and weep ... preliminary analysis on both sets of bones.”

Ryota cut his eyes up the arm fanning three slips of paper under his nose.  “Both sets?”  

“Yep, unless this guy had four arms and four legs,” he laughed as the other man took the crumpled papers from him.  “The pelvises … that’s how I could tell they were men.  Both of ‘em about 30 years old, fractures confined to the thigh, like something chewed its way down to the femoral artery.  Then again, it could be normal animal activity after the fact; there’s a lot of marrow in a big bone like that, you know.”  

“Sure they weren’t animal bones, Genma?”

“I know human bones when I see ‘em,” he said leaning down to the watch commander’s eye level. “Not questioning my knowledge of anatomy are ya?”

“Haven’t time for that argument.  It doesn’t make any sense; patrols go through those woods every day and nobody ever found bones before.”

“If it eases your mind some, I did find evidence they’d been previously buried.  Probably find a lot more of ‘em out there, if your men take time to look.”

“Can you give me some idea of how long they been out there?”

Smiling cagily, he scooped up Ryota’s matchbox.  “If the Inspector wants answers, it’ll be a while.”  A few puffs on his pipe later he said, “Couple of folks just dropped dead last night ... they hadn’t been sick or nothing … go figure.   Anyway, I’ll be up to my eyeballs in corpses, what bliss.  See ya round,” he said tossing the matchbox on the desk.

Ryota shook his head as the door slammed behind Genma.  _Shit …_ _Ibiki is not gonna like this_.  

**Recherché**

“Well, my day’s planned,” Kotetsu said as he barged into the room.  “Apothecary's son has a cabin in the woods; sleeps four and the rent’s cheap, so says the lady at the front desk. Wanna come with me Zumo?”   

Izumo waved him over to the small side table.  “Please sit down and lower your voice … can’t you see Iruka’s working on something?”

“He’s always working on something,” he said taking a seat.  “Those papers look too big for origami, so what’s he doing?”

“No clue.  Whatever it is must be important … he hasn’t moved since I brought breakfast up twenty minutes ago.  I thought the smell of food would’ve garnered a reaction but--”

 “His loss ... my gain,” he laughed while reaching across the table, “means I can have his portion too.”

Waggling a serving spoon near Kotetsu's extended hand, Izumo threatened, “Don’t even think about it.  That’s your portion over there, greedy.”

“But it’s gonna get cold--”

“We’ve eaten cold food before and survived.  Anyway, I’m gonna see if I can wrangle some information out of the constables this morning--”

“Good luck with that,” Kotetsu laughed as he tucked a napkin inside his collar.

“Remember that mounted patrol lieutenant we met yesterday?”

“You mean the one that kept smiling at ya funny and laughing at your lame jokes?  Better watch your step with that one, Zumo,” he said blowing a kiss toward the other man, “he may want to give ya more than just information.”

"You're being particularly vulgar this morning.  I don’t fancy men and you know it.”

“Yeah, I know, but does he?  You blushing Zumo?”

“Shut up and eat.”

“You hear that Ruka?  Your cousin is gonna "pump" a constable for information.”

“Yes, it is chilly this morning,” came the distracted response from the bed.

“Thought that would have gotten a snicker at least,” he whispered to Izumo.  “I know you have a meeting with Governor later but while I’m working hard and Zumo is playing kissy face with his new friend, what else are you gonna be doing today, Ruka?”

“Now it makes sense,” Iruka mumbled.  “They all lead to the forest.”

“He’s ignoring me, Zumo … wave that spoon all you want, I’m just gonna help myself to his portion--”  

“No, I heard you,” Iruka mumbled,  “consonants and cabbages.”  

“What?  Ruka, what the hell are you doing over there?”  Plate in hand, Kotetsu stomped over to the bedside. “What is so fascinating about these old maps?”

Iruka looked up, his eyes glazed over, “Huh?  Oh, they’re floor plans.  I’m hoping one of them is the layout of our target’s home.”

“Floor plans?  Where did you steal 'em from?”

“I didn’t steal anythi-- Tetsu, give that back!”

“Be careful,” Izumo said as he came to stand at the foot of the bed. “Your greasy fingerprints will smudge the lines.”

"Where'd you get all this junk?"

“The fire brigade if you must know, Tetsu and they were given to me.  One of the volunteers wanted to help with my thesis, so he let me have building and floor plans for some the older homes in the territory.”

“I thought you were done with homework stuff, Ruka.”

“Tetsu, engage brain before opening mouth.  Obviously he lied to get these things, okay?  Which one belongs to Hatake?”

“Wish I knew, Zumo. Found out too late that they're organized by lot numbers, not names.  Maybe I should’ve been more specific with my request.”

"Well I can’t make heads or tails of this stuff Ruka, so here, take it,” Kotetsu said as he let the paper slip from his fingers.

Izumo caught the falling paper before it hit the mattress.  “Not sure how helpful this information will be to whatever you’re planning, Iruka.  If I had to guess, I’d say they’re at least seventy years old,” he said reaching for another drawing nearest him.

“Older than that,”  Iruka told him as he scooted off the bed. “That style of architecture dates back over a hundred years.”

“And any renovations since the original build are probably  in an archive somewhere--”

“That’s what I think too, still, they’re amazing; notice how tunnels run under the larger homes straight out to the forests?  Must’ve been escape routes for the rich in case of attack.”

“So, what’s the big deal?” Kotetsu wondered aloud.  “Just ask the Governor if you can see the newer ones?”

“That would raise too many questions… we don’t want anyone catching wise too soon.”

“And speaking of the Governor, what time is your meeting with him?”

“Her, Zumo … and it's at two o’clock,” he said as he sat down before his breakfast.  “You two should be done with your errands before then, don’t you think?”

“Wait a minute … he wants us to go to the meeting with him?”

“Tetsu, we talked about this last night … remember?  We’re all going to the meeting.  "Now don’t look so glum, the Governor requested my father’s assistance and I have a feeling she’ll be more accommodating than the Inspector was.”

**Recherché**

 “They don’t make stuff like that nowadays,” spluttered the foreman.  “We had to import--”

“That, my good man, is not my concern,” Kinoe growled.  “You and your company were contracted to complete renovations within a six-month time frame. Yet eight months have elapsed and still you’re three quarters finished--”

"Sir, refurbishment of the grand ballroom took more time than we expected.  We had a devil of a time finding replacements and once we did, refitting those gas lines was a nightmare.”

“I’m certain I don’t care.  Lord Hatake has already paid an exorbitant amount for that room to be as it was in his grandfather’s time.  And so it shall be.  Need I remind you, ... only my entreaties have staved off your firing.” 

“Sir, we’re working as fast as we can--”

“Then hire more laborers at your expense, for you’ll not receive another stipend from the master’s pocket,” he said before turning on his heel and walking away.    

 _Rich folk_ , thought the grizzled foreman as Kinoe strode off.  _What a pain in the ass_.

 

Note:

Stipend: a fixed sum of money, paid periodically to defray expenses.


	18. Recherche: Unveiling

Base of operations secured and a pipeline of information from the constables laid,Kotetsu and Izumo await Iruka's arrival outside the Administrative complex. Kotetsu having turned himself west toward the plaza, Izumo at his back turned eastward, scouring the shoreline and docks.

"We'll need to lay in store plenty of rice, beans and the like.  I trust your skills with bow and arrow haven't gone rusty Tetsu."

"Don't you worry about me … we'll have fresh meat on our table every night.  You oughta be more concerned about your cousin" he said clicking closed his pocket watch. "He should've been here by now. Maybe I should walk back to the inn-"

"Relax ... it's only half past one."

"Wasn't like he was doing anything important, what's taking so long?"

"I declare … your memory is getting shorter by the day. The floor plans, the one's you accused him of stealing ... important part of the scheme he covered in detail to and from the diner last night? Any of that ring a bell for--"

"Ah, Misters Hagane and Kamizuki," boomed the voice behind him.

Given that condescending tone, Izumo wasn't surprised to see Inspector Morino when he turned about. He stood grinning at them, his arms folded across his chest and a thin brown cigar caught between his teeth. "Always a pleasure, sir," he said with a smile.

"Seems you gents are missing a leg. Where is the good doctor anyway?" They stood silent as Ibiki bent down, scrubbing the ash from his toby against the pavement. "Have to tell ya," he sniped while rising to his full height, "I was shocked to see the three of you at the tsuya last night."

Kotetsu puffed himself up, asking,"That sort of thing a crime in Konoha, Inspector?  Like everybody else, we came to offer condolences and prayers. What of it?"

"No crime, just found it curious. Do have a good afternoon, sirs."

Watching Ibiki stroll to the front door of the Admin complex, he sneered, "I don't know why, but that man irritates the hell out of me Zumo. Think he's here for the meeting too?"

"Don't let him rattle you.  He had a file tucked under his arm ...probably just dropping off a report or filing paperwork."

"If you say so. I hate standing around, shaking the change in my pocket; I'm gonna take a walk … look for Ruka."

"It'll be a short trip then; he was standing near the wharf a minute ago."

"What the hell was he doing over there?"

"What, did you just meet him last week, Tetsu? When Iruka's got something on his mind, just sitting idly near a body of water helps him collect his thoughts--"

"Pfft … he's just gonna show his face and answer some stupid questions, how mentally taxing can that be?"

**Recherché**

Maito stands across the plaza, watching as the trio assembles. He follows close behind as they enter the building and listens carefully as the Governor's assistant leads them into the conference room. _This should be interesting,_ he thinks, taking a seat in the area designated for distinguished visitors. From his pocket, he retrieves a small vial filled with a purplish liquid; gulping it down quickly, he checks the surrounding area for witnesses before his body is sucked into the woodwork behind him. Into the bright light of the room where the four men are gathered, he stands invisible.

"Who knew our paths would cross this soon," Iruka said as he took a seat opposite the Inspector. "I thought you'd had it up to your back teeth with us yesterday."

"I did," was Ibiki's dry response, "but I'd forever kick myself if I passed up another opportunity to see your smiling faces."

"What a joy it is to accommodate you then," Kotetsu sniped cutting his eyes at the smug man and brushing off the pain of Izumo's warning knock against his thigh.

"Settle down, Hagane … I'm only here as an observer at the Governor's request."

"Alrighty then," Shizune intervened, "Lady Tsunade will join us momentarily. Would anyone care for tea?"

Iruka opened the portfolio, sliding several of the note filled pages before Izumo. "If it isn't any trouble I'd like a cup."

"As would I, Shizune," they heard the Governor say as she entered. Approaching from the right of the trio, she stopped near the head of the table. "Well, well, the cheeky young man from yesterday turns out to be the son of the esteemed Dr. Umino. Shizune … I owe you an apology."

Her assistant smiled and quietly dismissed herself from the room while Iruka almost tipped the chair over when he jumped up. "You're the Governor? Oh … when I… the park … I had no idea who-"

"Never mind that now." Grabbing at his hand, she gave his palm a cursory examination. "Not bleeding … no inflammation, at least you're obedient."

Once she'd released him from the crushing grip, he humbly bowed. "Allow me to introduce my companions, ma'am. Kamizuki Izumo and to his left, Hagane Kotetsu."

Both men stood and bowed as she acknowledged them with a bright smile. "Since you found the apothecary, should I also assume you made it to the fire brigade?"

"They were most helpful, thank you."

"And that drivel about a thesis... that was a lie, wasn't it?"

"That part was, Iruka admitted, I just wanted to see if I could get my hands on a floor plan of the home my parents lived in.  Been thinking about settling here, building a home for my own family--"

"I didn't remember you having this scar when you were a child, Iruka …that was the other thing that threw me off yesterday." Carefully she reached out, trailing the old wound with her thumb. "Not another apple slicing accident, was it?"

Reflexively leaning away from her touch, he lowered his head and mumbled, "This was sustained during a fight ... long ago."

"Be sure to tell me all about it later." Ibiki rose and pulled out the chair to his left. Poised serenely near the edge of her seat, her hands folded before her on the table, she said, "For now, let's get down to business. First off, I was unaware your father was deceased until the Inspector told me yesterday … you have my condolences, Iruka."

"Much appreciated, ma'am."

"Homicides are rare in the territory," she explained, "but when they do happen, our constables are quick to apprehend the guilty party. However, we've had a spate of unsolved murders in a short time under very unusual circumstances; that's why I sought your father's advice. I'm hoping he shared his thoughts on the matter with you."

"He couldn't. By the time your letter arrived Lady Tsunade, my father was unable to communicate rationally. But," he said flipping through the portfolio, "there's a wealth of information in his notes which will help you understand the recent goings on. I must warn you, the things you'll see and hear, incredible as they seem, are indeed factual. I will speak only the truth, ma'am."

"One of my ancestors left behind tales of creatures beyond human comprehension," she quietly said. "Wolf like beings, ghostly apparitions gathering under the light of a full moon to perform strange rituals … I doubt the information you'll share will frighten me. Proceed."

Ibiki folded his arms across his chest and sank back into his seat with a sigh.

"Very well. What Konoha is currently dealing with are called _gaki_ , indiscriminate killers which strike as their appetite dictates. It matters little to them if the prey is male, female, human or animal, their only interest is the taste of warm flesh and blood." Pushing the portfolio toward her, he watched her flip through pages of notes until she came to the drawings. "Right there ma'am … on the left side of the page; that's a gaki in its true form."

"Good god …it's horrifying!"

"These sketches were the property of Professor Kenichi Yamada. My father acquired them and added his own research notes as he--"

All eyes turned toward the Governor's assistant as a china teapot violently rattled against the silver tray she carried. "Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Umino, but did I hear you correctly? Those things… eat people?"

"They've been known to do so, yes."

"For heaven sake, Shizune. Either take a seat or put the tray down before you drop it."

"Yes ma'am, pardon me … those grotesque images shot a chill up my spine."

Maito looked over the young woman's shoulder as she sat down. _Professor Yamada,_ he thought laughing to himself. _Tinkering with spells and hexes, summoning a Yasha one time too many, tried to make friends with it and paid the ultimate price … that fool!_

"As I was saying," Iruka continued, "if these creatures were acting of their own accord, you'd have more victims. I believe they're following the leadership of another; a numen, a prince of demons. They're working in concert with a being more powerful than they, to accomplish a specific goal."

"Yes," Izumo said, "the type of gaki orchestrating these murders is an evolved being; he's' an ancient, charismatic and intelligent creature that--"

"How on earth can you tell? These drawings depict no external genitalia," Tsunade offered. "What makes you think this thing is male, Mr. Kamizuki?"

Easing the portfolio from her, Izumo flipped back a few pages saying, "Gaki of this type prey on the opposite sex … here we are … on this page you can clearly see the difference between Yasha and this other creature. They all belong to a class of yokai known as bakemono obake because they can assume different forms. Once they assume the desired appearance, I assure you, Yasha are quite alluring. The teats on either side of the belly become female breasts-"

"That thing next to the Yasha ... looks like a giant bat with huge fangs to me," she said.

"The creature we're looking for … that is his true form, ma'am. Usually he takes on the appearance of a handsome, tall, very slender and charming man. The murder victims were all women, correct? Each of them were carefully selected with the intent of presenting them as handmaidens for his bride."

"And how many victims or handmaidens are we talking about?" Ibiki asked. "Is there a required number to make up this 'bridal entourage'?"

"Depends," Kotetsu told them. "The power and prestige of the numen determines the number of victims. If he's as old as we suspect, it might be ten, twelve or even fifteen … who knows?"

"The bride," Iruka injected, "who is typically between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five and virginal, is assigned to the care of the Yasha. They act as her guardians while the numen woos her.  They safeguard her virginity, fighting to the death any suitors that they might present her chaste before their master. Once the number of handmaidens are assembled, the numen invokes a powerful spell which calls forth the women he murdered."

"Best have my men patrol the cemetery from now on then, Dr. Umino.  Pretty sure rising from the dead is illegal."

Tsunade kicked him in the shin under the table. "I hope you understand, Iruka… this information is difficult for us to hear--"

"And impossible to believe," Ibiki mumbled under his breath.

"I thought these guys were nuts too," Kotetsu laughed, "till I came face to face with one of those damn things."

Iruka pressed on, "Female gaki or Yasha, are more aggressive and ferocious than their male counterparts. Those not selected as to attend the bride, lure their meals to their deaths with promises of sexual relations.  They kill them during a sex act." Iruka cringed as he continued, "Once the man lowers his pants, the Yasha revert to their true form. A single bite through the thigh, right down to the femoral artery is all it takes . And as he lays bleeding, the Yasha feast on his flesh; whatever is left becomes food for other gaki, drawn by the scent of a fresh kill. Nothing is spared. In the end, all that remains of the victim is a skeleton."

Tsunade and Ibiki exchanged worried glances. "Indulge me, Inspector," she said at last. "Compile a report of every missing person these last seven months-"

"A waste of time," Izumo told her sadly. "I'm willing to bet those reports won't take transients into consideration--"

"The ports of Konoha provide the gaki with an endless buffet. Itinerant sailors thinking nothing of 'jumping ship' to make more money with another crew. Not unusual for their names to be scrubbed from a ship's manifest-"

"That's right, Tetsu. So, in summary, we're looking for an intelligent and powerful being with an army of gaki behind him; a creature with the ability to manipulate others to do his bidding," Iruka said. "In the east, he's known as the Bird of Death, though our European neighbors call him, Nosferatu-"

"Oh, for god sake!" Ibiki roared slamming his fists on the tabletop. "If word gets out we're hunting a vampire, my constables will look even bigger fools. And what if the murderer turns out to be a psychologically damaged human being, then what, Dr. Umino?"

"Perhaps, we're both correct in our understanding, Inspector. Vampires were once humans made immortal – under the cover of darkness, they strike, feeding on the life blood of their victims to maintain immortality."

"Tell me then, if this being is immortal, how are we to kill him?"

Once again, Iruka pulled the portfolio close and thumbed through its pages. "According to my father and Professor Yamada, there are only three ways to kill a creature like this, Inspector. The first is a wooden stake driven through the heart as he lies in repose. Second, prolonged exposure to direct sunlight or finally, cutting off its head and pouring holy water or oils into its body cavity."

"I see. And if he is as powerful as you claim, how are we to get close enough to do any of those things?"

"You'd do well to leave that bit to the experts, Morino. We have the weaponry and know how to destroy him," Kotetsu boasted.

"That I cannot do that, sir. If this thing is a monster as you say, then drag its carcass into the town square and receive the adulation of the people. If it be a man, more the better. We'll bring him before the courts for judgment. The people of this territory deserve to see someone apprehended and made to stand trial for--"

"If we find him first, Inspector, apprehension and a trial  aint options; we're gonna kill him, see?"

"Mr. Hagane, I could arrest you right now for communicating a threat--"

"No threat ...fact. We're the only ones qualified to take him down."

"And if we don't kill him," Izumo said, "the murders will continue. Is that what you'd prefer, Inspector?"

"Well, aren't you the cocky ones? Hang on," Ibiki laughed as he wrote their names on a scrap of paper near Tsunade's arm. "Hagane and Kamizuki … wanna make sure your names are recorded correctly for the tombstones."

Tsunade slammed her foot against his instep. "No need to rile yourselves, gentlemen. We're here to exchange information; I'll not let this become a raucous debate."

"Fine," Ibiki snapped. "Let's say for a moment, I believe everything you've told us this afternoon. Care to explain how it's possible for anyone or anything to drain every drop of blood from a body without splattering it all over the victim's clothing, hair or crime scene?"

"I'll field that one," Iruka said as he fished around inside his jacket pocket for a smaller notebook. "I'm certain I mentioned this before, Inspector but gaki can move about without leaving a trace; only during the full moon do they have this ability." In just a few moments he'd found the passage he was looking for. "My father noted that the first bite puts the victim under the numen's spell, marking her for the Yasha's protection; the second bite cements the numen's hold over the mind of his prey. At the appointed time is the prey summoned to the numen's lair for the third and final bite; the woman yields herself to the creature, pleading with him to bind her for eternity-"

"What a heap of malarkey," Ibiki snorted.

Iruka ignored him, turning another page. "The Yasha will carefully divest her of every scrap of clothing before binding her to a marble slab or sacrificial altar, if you will. They cover her from head to foot with a portion meant to purify the body; afterwards, the numen falls upon her, ripping open her throat, cutting through the carotid artery with his fangs and drinking his fill. She's bathed a final time after death … her body carefully redressed. Another servant then transports the corpse to a location predetermined by the numen."

"Your father witnessed this ritual, Iruka?"

"Whether he saw it for himself or whether it was told him, I cannot say with certainty, ma'am. Given the date of this diary entry, I know he was still in control of his faculties and can attest to the fact that this is his handwriting." Tucking the notebook inside his breast pocket, he pled, "Everyone in this room wants to prevent another murder, which I guarantee will occur in four weeks' time. To that end, I have one request. Inspector Morino, Lady Tsunade ... we need an assurance of immunity; let us track and kill him without any interference or repercussions for what we must do."

"If you wish to hunt a mythical creature and known killer, I for one won't mourn your loss," Ibiki countered. "But if this be a human being, you're asking me to turn a blind eye to murder, Dr. Umino--"

"He is a monster sir. A monster that will drag the people of this land into deeper terror if we don't act quickly."

"If I didn't know any better," Tsunade laughed, "it sounds as if you already know who this being is, Iruka."

"That I do ma'am. The murderer is-"

"Hush!" Izumo hissed. "Don't you dare!"

"They're gonna find out after we dispose of him anyway, Zumo." Drawing the portfolio before him, Iruka assembled the scattered drawings and reverently closed the cover. As he rose from his seat he warned, "With or without your permission, I will deal with this situation in my own way, to avenge my father's death."

"Avenge? Are you saying Tadashi was … murdered?"

"My father sustained an injury; sepsis corrupted his blood, rendering him insane and eventually killing him." He dropped back into his seat, his eyes vacant as he mumbled, "About a year ago, this past January, Izumo and I were preparing dinner for my father when we heard an argument coming from the study. We arrived to find him bloodied with a decapitated man lying at his feet. But before we could reach him, another creature leapt through the window. As it turned away from us and scooped up the remains of the dead man, it screamed … no … it mournfully howled, one word over and over …

_Father!_

"My god, Iruka," Tsunade gasped, "you're pale as a ghost!"

"My father's killer," he breathed, "was Hatake Sakumo.

And now his son, Hatake Kakashi …

has returned to Konoha to sire a new generation of demons."

Note:

Yokai: class of supernatural monsters, spirits and demons. Yokai which can shapeshift are referred to as bakemono obake.


	19. Recherche: Revolt

Recherché Chapter Nineteen: Revolt

 His stomach aflutter and mind reeling, Maito absquatulates with the information the same way he’d entered, through the woodwork.  He leaves behind a shell shocked Tsunade and Ibiki, paralyzed in disbelief as they watch Izumo and Kotetsu help Dr. Umino shakily stand to his feet.

 _Far too dangerous to live,_ he thought skirting around the people meandering through the Admin center.  

_Surely Master will give them into my hands now._

Inside the quiet room, a tiny chuckle grew into a gale of guffaws as Ibiki threw his head back and laughed, his forearm plastered against his midsection.

“Damn it!” Tsunade snapped, “catch hold yourself! Didn’t you hear what they just--”

“I’ve been sittin’ here …tryna find a subtle way to tell you,” he managed between laughs.  “But he did the work for me … Umino,” he chortled, “he’s out of his damn mind.”

“And I see you’re enjoying a moment of insanity too.  You three,” she barked lunging from her seat, “get back here this instant!”

Startled by the tone of the Governor’s voice, Shizune bolted from her seat, running to block the exit with her body.

“Can’t you see he’s overwrought?” Izumo shouted.  "I have to attend him!” 

“Either you drag his sorry ass back here …  or I’ll come across this table and do it myself!”   

Stopped cold by the Governor’s threat, Izumo slowly turned about with Iruka sagging against his side.  “Then a moment, please. Recollection of that night is adversely affecting him--”   

"Long as he's still breathing, I don’t give a damn about his affectation!  If you thought I’d let you walk out of here after an accusation like that, Kamizuki you’re crazier than he is!”

 “Not crazy,” Iruka mumbled against Izumo’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well something’s wrong you,” Ibiki roared.  “Hatake Sakumo was man revered and respected in this land and you presume to let his name fall out of your mouth so casually?”

“Hush now, Ibiki.  Iruka, get over here, prove what you’ve said and be quick about it!”

“I spoke the truth--”

“How dare you! The Hatake were one of Konoha’s founding families; five brothers who helped the Senju make this a prosperous land--”

“Told the truth,” he slurred.

“Shizune, have you any smelling salts?”

“In my desk, ma’am.”

 “Fetch ‘em” she said through clenched teeth. “After that, you’re free to go.”

“But milady, I’d like to stay ... if that’s alright with everyone.”

“Smelling salts now damn it!” 

Helping Iruka into his seat, Izumo pried the portfolio from his hands and laid it flat on the table.  “If you’d allow me, I’ll explain from this point onward.”

Tsunade nodded, slowly settling back down into her chair.  “Go on.”

He first looked to Iruka for permission and having received it, he began. “His family joined mine in London at my father’s insistence.  Tadashi helped my father train Japanese medical students during the day; by night, they struggled to translate the only English textbooks the students had.  Professor Yamada introduced my father and Tadashi to Hatake Sakumo; his command of the English language proved a tremendous asset.  But the elder Hatake maintained two residences, you see; one in Cornwall, the other in London.  He’d stop by whenever he could and often worked through the night beside my father and uncle.”

Iruka’s body jerked beside him as Shizune waved the salts under his nose and Izumo’s eyes watered because of the fumes.  “Pardon me,” he said wiping away a tear. 

“For heaven sake,” Tsunade said covering her nose. "Hurry and replace the stopper in that vial, Shizune.”

“Alright,” coughed Ibiki, “you’ve established the fact you knew him.  We still haven't heard proof the elder Hatake was a murderer or a monster.”

“Yes sir, I’m coming to that.  The four of these men worked together for years; Sakumo was like another uncle to me and Iruka, even paid for our schooling and slipped us pocket money now and again--”

“We get it, he was generous with time and money,” Tsunade bristled.  “Please hurry along this trip down memory lane.”

Izumo nodded, “Indulge me a few minutes more, ma’am.” He waited quietly as Ibiki rolled his eyes and groaned and Tsunade huffed out another sigh.  “Tadashi became fascinated with Yamada’s writings on the supernatural ... it was an obsession, point of fact.  On her deathbed, my aunt Amaya begged Hatake to help him.  After Yamada and my father died, Sakumo became more involved in our daily lives, was our benefactor when the economy went soft.   He put Tadashi in charge of one of his pet projects, figuring it would constructively occupy his mind; would’ve been extremely lucrative for our family, had it panned out.”  He looked up suddenly when Tsunade started drumming her nails on the tabletop.

“If you’re waiting for us to produce a written agreement between Hatake and my father, no such thing exists,” Iruka finally said pulling at the edge of the portfolio.  “After my mother died, Father locked himself away, slowly descending into madness as the months passed.  He burned all their research notes after he and Sakumo had a falling out; even refused to allow Hatake in our home and never spoke his name again … until that fateful night.”

“Oh, my god,” Ibiki whispered to Tsunade, “this is like Genma times two." Turning his attention to Izumo he snarled, “You have no proof of your claims whatsoever, have you?  Just wasting our time.  You’ll excuse me, but I’ve heard enough of this foolishness.”

Tsunade flung her arm across his chest as he attempted to stand.  “Nobody is going anywhere, understood?”  She leaned back in her chair, slowly cracking her knuckles.  “Now I suggest one of you young men get to the point, as my patience is wearing thin.”

Izumo swallowed around the lump in his throat.  “I was there the night Tadashi and Sakumo parted ways.  I heard shouting, glass breaking and furniture being overturned, so I ran to the study.  Pushing open the door a crack, I saw Hatake grab Tadashi by the throat and lift him from the floor.  And as he raised him toward the rafters, I saw Sakumo’s body twist and split open as his skin melted away.  Right before my eyes, he transformed into this ... hideous creature--”

“And you expect us to believe such an outrageous claim, Mr. Kamizuki?”

“Whether you believe or not ma’am, I know what I saw.”

“Hatake Sakumo," Iruka weakly asked, "did you know him, Lady Tsunade?”

“I was a mere slip of a girl when he lived in Konoha, but yes, I remember seeing him at parties my grandparents hosted--”

“And do you ever recall a time when you saw him in broad daylight?”

“What?  That was over forty years ago, Iruka.   I can’t be bothered now to remember inconsequential details--”

“Since his return, can either you or the Inspector say you’ve seen Hatake Kakashi during daylight hours?”

“That man spends most of his time traveling and when he is home, he’s working or sleeping I’d imagine.  Why, just the other week, he hosted a symposium at our research facility--

“At night?”

“Well yes, of course,” she said.  “The presenters arranged it that way because of my schedule; late evening was the only time I could attend.”

“How convenient.  Don’t you remember I told you, exposure to direct sunlight will kill him?”

“Oh, for heaven sake, Iruka … is this your proof he’s a monster?”  She folded her arms under her bosom saying, “I know of and have treated hundreds of fair skinned people who avoid direct sunlight.  Are they monsters too?”

“You were at the tsuya last night …have to assume you saw what Hatake did to us; dropped us to our knees with just a glance.”

“I saw nothing of the kind--”

“So,” Ibiki chuckled, “your clumsiness was his fault, eh?  And here I thought you three were under the influence of strong drink.  Amazing.  Lady Tsunade and I have seen Hatake Kakashi on numerous occasions, neither of us have ever fallen backwards just because he glanced our way.”

“And how long after his arrival did the murders begin, Inspector?”

“I don’t know … a few months?  Coincidence, Dr. Umino--”

“Iruka, I’m appalled and disappointed,” Tsunade said with a sigh.  “Your father was a great man and if he could hear you now, besmirching the name of an honorable family …it would break his heart.”

“On the contrary, Lady Tsunade.  He’d be proud, because I refused to let naysayers deter me from my sworn path.  I came back to Konoha to tell the truth … I’ve done so and I will walk out of this office with my integrity intact.  You believed the stories your ancestors left behind and yet, even after I’ve identified a murderer in your midst, still you refuse to look beyond his status to see the truth.”  He rose without assistance this time, clutching the portfolio tightly to his chest.  “You’ll not see my face again until I’ve accomplished the purpose for which I came.”  As he made for the unguarded exit, he said, “Inspector Morino, I will gladly stand trial and suffer the consequences for exterminating vermin.”

With a sly grin, Ibiki leaned forward, folding his arms on the tabletop.  “That won’t be necessary.  I can arrange to have you and your friends detained and deported by midnight tonight.”

“Ah, but you won’t,” he said turning to face them.  “Deep down inside, you know I’ve spoken the truth.  You know it too, Lady Tsunade.”

“I know you’ve regurgitated what you _think_ is truth, Umino.  That marks you as mentally unstable in my book, a danger to--”

“Only to Hatake and his minions. Izumo, Kotetsu … let’s go.”

  **Recherché**

 Maito stood at the base of the Master’s bed.  “What would you have me do now, my lord?”

Hatake turned onto his side, draping the linens over his shoulder.  “Your orders remain the same as when I issued them.  Monitor their movements, report their comings and goings, that is all.”

“But Master, Inspector Morino … surely he will come calling--”

“And I will afford him every hospitality once he arrives.  Now, do not my rest further break … depart from me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

**Recherché**

They sat quietly, their elbows barely touching as they stared at the closed door.  “I don’t want to believe him, Ibiki, but something is twisting round in my gut--”

“It’s called improbability ma’am.  First time I met those three, I knew something was off about ‘em.”

Grasping at his hand, her eyes lit up when she said, “Grandfather’s diary!  Shortly before Sakumo left for England, there were three gruesome murders--" 

“So?”

“The Commandant of Constables resigned his post under pressure from the Advisory Council.  It was the talk of the town for weeks.”

“Well,” he said with a wince, “I’m not about to give up that easily.”

“Only … the women killed were discovered in a heap out in the forest.  Their bodies, bearing signs of violent sexual activity; their heads, held onto their necks by a sliver of skin.   After that, the land enjoyed peace for the next thirty years.”

Slowly he prized away each of her fingers.  The chair creaked beneath him as he stood.  “I’ve had two men tailing Umino and friends since they got here.  If they’re planning something against Hatake, my men will quash it.   I promised you long ago, ma'am … I will find the one responsible for these murders, if it’s the last thing I do.”

She looked up at him with a smile. “And if what Iruka said was true, then it just might be. The Bird of Death is a creature of ancient lore … if that’s what Hatake is, you and your constables don’t stand a chance against him.”

“You actually believe that load of horse manure they dumped on us?  I don’t know why you’ve been so quick to change your opinion of late and why you prevented me from arresting him--”

“He’d done nothing but talk.   Honestly Ibiki, if you arrested every nutcase with a theory, we’d have to build two new jails.”  She stood beside him, linking her arm through his.  “I’ll reach out to Iruka again, try and talk some sense into him once he’s settled down.”  

“As you wish, but I’m gonna assign patrols around the Hatake manor, just in case.”

“This talk of avenging his father’s death,” she said as they walked toward the door, “it’s grief.  He watched his father die a slow painful death; poor thing hasn’t come to grips with it yet.  You saw him turn pale, that’s something you can’t fake, Ibiki.”

“I don’t get you sometimes, ma’am,” he said with a shake of his head.  “You’ve studied, practiced and taught medicine, but never once did you say a word.”

“About what?”

“Umino said sepsis killed his father and then in the same breath, he swore the killer was Hatake Sakumo.  So, which was it?”

“What about you, Ibiki?  Been in law enforcement for the better part of your life; didn’t hear you say anything either.  Remember your early days, breaking up bar fights?  You could question four eyewitnesses to the brawl and get four different iterations of what happened.”

 “Naturally, the eyewitnesses were as drunk as the combatants--”

 “Let’s assume for a moment that Iruka was sober at the time of the incident.  Hearing something smash through a window, running into a room and discovering a headless corpse at his father’s feet …is it possible that in the confusion of that night he may have misspoken?”

“Maybe,” he said after a beat.  “But I distinctly heard him say the window was broken _after_ they arrived in his father’s study."

“He also said his father was bloodied, could have been nicked by the assailant’s weapon during the attack … that’s not uncommon--”

“And Kamizuki … what he claims to have seen?  Is that grief too, ma’am?”

“Maybe his is a vivid imagination or perhaps his remembrances of that night are confused as well.   He worked alongside Tadashi and Professor Yamada for years ... I’m sure he heard them speak of these things and--”

“Ridiculous,” he snorted. “They spoke what they believed to be true.  No telling what they might do next.” 

 

**Recherché**

Not five steps outside the Admin complex doors, Kotetsu said, “Mind telling me what the hell got into you back there? Why’d you put yourself out there like that?  And why the hell would you shoot your mouth off like that?   Now they know who we’re after!”

“You done? Go on, get it all out of your system.”

“You’re acting queer, Ruka and I don’t like it, that’s all.” 

Clamping his hand on his shoulder, Iruka laughed.  “You know I never do anything without careful consideration, Tetsu.  It’s just … I need them to think we’re crazy.”

“Well, congratulations! You did a bang-up job of that.  Did you know he was gonna flip out on us like this, Zumo?”

“Nope.  Look, Iruka, we’re trying to help you… least you could do is let us in your secrets.”

“Sometimes I need to play things close to the vest, Zumo; you would have been less convincing if I’d said anything beforehand.”

“At least you found a way to keep Tetsu still and quiet for almost half an hour.  That in itself was a miracle.”

“Yes, I’ll have to try it again sometime,” Iruka joked.

“When this is behind us and we bail you out of jail, I’m gonna slap both of you silly.”

 “It's a deal, Tetsu.  In the meantime, I’m sure Inspector Morino will ring the Hatake estate with constables night and day, thus limiting his movements--”

“Lot of good that’s gonna do, you said this guy can go invisible anytime he wants--”

“He can ... but I’ve figured out a way to track him, no matter what he does.  I have one final secret which I promise to tell you … when the time is right.  Now then," he said as they walked toward the inn, "I want to have our stuff packed up by nightfall.  We'll need dry goods and cooking utensils … we’ll be living rough for the next few weeks.”  

**Recherché**

 “A word, Inspector,” Ryota said the moment he stepped foot inside the constabulary.  “In private, if you don’t mind.”

Ibiki rolled his eyes and shook his head. “What now?”

“Relax … it will keep until we get to your office. Shall we?”

Down the long hallway and into the quiet of his office, they kept up inane conversation.  Ibiki clicked closed the door behind them saying,  “Alright, what was so damned important we couldn’t discuss it in the--?”

“This,” he said shoving the folder into Ibiki’s waiting hand.  “Analysis of the remains in the forest. According to Genma, the bones were from two men, not one. He suspects there may be more out there, if we care to look.  Some animal attacked those men, bit clean down to their thighbones--”

“Did they find any clothing out there?”

“Uh, yeah.  But this wasn’t robbery if that’s what you’re thinking.   Genma found a small pile of gold coins and foreign paper currency crammed inside the dungarees around their ankles.”

“Dungarees ... so they weren’t local men.”  

“Longshoremen, sailors maybe.  Genma said he found some sort of insignia on their shirt collars ... I wasn’t really paying attention.  What the hell they were doing out in the forests, I don’t know.”

Ibiki walked the short distance to his desk, tossing the folder onto its surface.  “Did I tell you what I saw out there the other day, Ryota?  A clump of trees, in the shape of an arrowhead.”

“Big deal … lumberjacks are an odd lot.  Look, we got a bear or mountain lion developing a taste for human flesh.  I say we get a few hunters out that to kill it before it starts lookin’ around town for its next meal.”

“Garlands strewn at the base of the stumps, circles in the straw … this was no bear or mountain lion--”

“Okay, Ibiki,” he sighed, "then what the hell was it?”

He absentmindedly leaned against the corner of the desk when he turned about.  “If I told you what I thought, you wouldn’t believe me.  Never mind … assemble two crews of ten armed constables each, have ‘em patrol around the Hatake estate until further notice.”

“That big house near the cemetery?  What for?”

“Don’t question me, Ryota … just get it done.”

“Might be helpful if they knew what they were protecting it against.  You aren’t making sense, Ibiki.  Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“By the gods,” he said, dragging his hand down his face.   “I’m too sober for this conversation. That’s it, I’m off; if you need me, I’ll be home, drinking myself into a stupor.”

“Damn it man! You can’t just take off and run home--”

“Right, you’re coming with me … you’ll need to be drunker than I am to understand what I’m gonna tell ya.”

**Recherché**

When Ibiki awoke, night had already fallen and Ryota was gone. A glass of lukewarm water and two tablets sat on the table by the couch; he eschewed both and made his way to the stables. Saddling up Mayonaka, they headed west.

 

Notes:

Absquatulate: (British) - flee, abscond.

Sepsis or blood poisoning, arises when the body's response to infection triggers damage of its tissues and organs. Usually caused by bacteria, it may also result from the introduction of fungi, viruses or parasites into the bloodstream via a laceration. Treatment in those days included the use of quinine, whisky and milk or as a last resort, they would use leeches. If caught early enough, the patient typically showed signs of improvement, though relapse was inevitable. Ultimately, sepsis lead to death.


	20. Recherche: Coin with Three Sides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody knows there are three sides to every story. We’ve heard Iruka’s side, and now we’ll hear Kakashi’s, but will truth tell its side? Reckon we’ll have to let Ibiki suss that out.

Chapter Twenty: Coin with Three Sides

 

“Go, inform our lord that Morino is on his way,” Maito told the wolves at his side.  "I will be at his right hand directly.”

**Recherché**

Save the ancestral home of the Hyuga, Hatake manor was one of the largest estates in the territory; it loomed in the distance as his vision swam. Heavy night air, laced with the alternating fragrances of wisteria, lilac, evening primrose and jessamine relentlessly pounced from every quarter as he drew closer.  Up ahead, torchlight lined the path to the main house, illuminating expanses of green as far as the eye could see.  Beyond the gates, vineyards as crouching soldiers arrayed to his right, orchards of peach and pear trees stood as hulking leafy armies on his left.  The moment they crossed the property line, Ibiki hurriedly dismounted and raced toward the bushes.

 _Haven’t retched like that in years_ , he thought wiping at his mouth.

Praying he’d find at least one of the candied ginger lozenges from Ryota, a listless hand fumbled about inside a coat pocket as he caught his breath. Leaning against Mayonaka’s flank, he debated the wisdom of continuing.

_What the hell am I gonna say to this man anyway?_

‘ _I hear tell you’re a bloodthirsty monster, Hatake-dono,_

_one who murders women for sport._

_Care to change into your true form that I might arrest you?’_

He slowly shook his head and once his surroundings ceased from their spinning, he determined to press onward _._ Leather reins clutched in his fist, Mayonaka gently guided and supported him up the steep incline. Ere he reached the main entrance, servants poured from the house, aligning themselves on the stairs. Those at the bottom of the steps greeted him profusely, offering food and water for his mount as they led Mayonaka away.  _Oh, that’s right.  Rich folk do this as a matter of course … servants stand at the ready for whatever may come._ Ere he reached the massive doors, they swung inward, revealing a smiling olive skinned man dressed in a suit of fine woven woolens and silk.  

“Welcome to the house of Hatake Inspector.  I am Kinoe,” the young man said as he bowed deeply.

“Sorry to disturb at this hour. Hatake-dono, is he in residence?”

“Yes, please, come in.   You'll pardon the state of the manor; renovations are ongoing, and those thoughtless workmen tend to leave things lying about.”

Crossing the threshold, the first thing Ibiki saw was a family herald emblazoned on the marble floor of the great hall.  Under the lights of a centuries old chandelier, thousands of tiny pieces of colored glass merrily twinkled.  Closer examination was made possible as the servant drew him into the foyer. Dominating the herald’s surface were two massive grey wolves reared up on their hind legs; their front paws supporting either side of the letter ‘H,’ and above their heads floated braided crowns of gold.   Two curved staircases of white slate steps and handrails of polished ebony led to what Ibiki assumed was the ballroom. Above the landing, where the staircases merged, portraits of the previous heads of this family stared back at him from pristine white walls. 

_So, those are the brothers Lady Tsunade mentioned. The current clan head, center most.  Its picture frame differs from the others … probably had it commissioned in Europe._

“Your overcoat, sir,” Kinoe said as he eased it from his shoulders. 

Ibiki had but a few moments to drink in the grandeur of the foyer before he was ushered into a lush waiting room.   “Please make yourself comfortable Inspector.  I’ll inform the Master of your arrival.”

Standing in the center of this room felt as if he'd been sucked through a portal in time and spat out in the living space of a samurai.  Weapons of war and ancient proverbs decorated the walls, and in the far corner of the room stood a  a complete suit of iron armor. Other artifacts of antiquity found their homes atop marble pedestals encased in glass.  He was denied an opportunity to snoop about at leisure, as a bevy of servants paraded through the space offering trays of refreshments and polite conversation. 

All too soon, Kinoe returned.  “The Master is ready to receive you," he announced.  "Right this way, if you please.”

As they walked down the long corridor, servants dashed about on fleet feet, toting heavy boxes of silverware, candelabras of gold and other expensive looking knickknacks.  They too bowed and smiled politely before scurrying hither and yon.  At the door of the large room at the end of the hall, Kinoe knocked twice before holding the door open for him. Out of the corner of his eye, Ibiki saw a burly man abandoning one of the chairs to stand by the fireplace.  _Pretty sure that isn't him_ , he thought, _a bodyguard perhaps?_

“Inspector Morino,” came a voice near the hearth.  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?”

Kinoe conducted him deeper inside the salon until he stood before the silver haired master of the manor.   “Hatake-dono …  pardon my visit at this late hour--”

“It is I who must apologize ... the slovenly state of my home; we've laborers bumping about during the day.  I declare, they seem bound and determined to leave unfinished work and piles of sawdust lying about.  This small salon is the only place I can work in peace and receive guests.”

“I’ll not take up too much of your time, sir.”

Sumptuous leather groaned as the man leaned forward in his seat.  “Think nothing of it. My eye long ago grew weary of reading and my hand cramped from writing. Please, have a seat beside me Inspector ... I won’t bite,” he said with a chuckle in his voice.

Bowing before the master, meant leaving his back vulnerable to man standing at the hearth, still, Ibiki drew closer, ignoring his instincts.  Whoever this person was, maintained a posture which smacked of violence,  his breaths coming as low growls from his throat. _I'm imagining things,_ Ibiki thought, as he rose to see Hatake, a slight smile on his lips and eyebrows raised in anticipation of amiable conversation. 

 _Hmm … he looks just as he did in the portrait._ _Without the eyepatch, he seems younger, more approachable than he did at the tsuya._

“I was about to pour plum brandy for myself and Maito there behind you.  Care to join us Inspector?”

“Thank you, no,” Ibiki said as his stomach flipped wrong side out.   “Best keep my wits as I’m here in an official capacity, sir.” He stood there awkwardly for another moment, thinking it rude to position himself on Hatake's blind side.   _Nah, its fine … won’t need to look him in the eye to know whether he’s hiding something._

Gesturing for him to be seated once more, Hatake warmly smiled . “As my nearest neighbor is the cemetery, surely this isn’t a noise complaint, is it Inspector?”

Ibiki swallowed down the bile racing toward the back of his throat as the fragrant amber liquid flowed from its decanter.   “Nothing like that,” he managed to say as he eased into the chair.  “I'm afraid grievous accusations have been leveled against you Hatake-dono.  I’ll need ask a few questions if you don’t mind.” 

Reclining against the chair back, the master of the manor said, "Anyway I can be of assistance to the constables, I count an honor.  Maito, fetch a seat from the other side of the room … you’ll sit by the bookcase for now.   Lazily passing the snifter beneath his nose, he said, "Grievous accusations against me , hmm ... do tell, Inspector.”

Ibiki cleared his throat while searching for an empty page in the notebook taken from his breast pocket.. “Are you now or have you ever been acquainted with a Dr. Umino Tadashi?”

“Why yes of course … he worked with my father in London for years.  A first rate anatomist and a brilliant teacher he was …until the poor man lost his mind.”

Patting down his jacket in search of a fountain pen, Ibiki lowered his voice, “His son, Umino Iruka, recently arrived in Konoha.  He claims you're responsible for the deaths of eight young women in the territory. What say you, sir?”

Once again, Hatake pushed himself forward, letting the snifter rest on the table between them as he and the returning Maito shared a laugh.  “Blaming a string of murders on me … this is a new low for him.”  He twisted in his seat that he might look Ibiki in the eye.  “The younger Umino … strange little man; he followed me around London for weeks after my father died--”

“Did you report his stalking to the police?”

“No,” he said reaching for the snifter and sinking back into the chair.  “As foreigners, our claims weren’t always given highest priority.”  

Suddenly, the dour husky man stood between them, snatching up the snifter as he looked down his nose at Ibiki.

“Maito, do excuse yourself.  I beg your pardon on his behalf, Inspector,” he leaned to the side of the chair to whisper.  “He's been rather territorial of late … you’re occupying his seat--”

 “I was unaware," Ibiki said as he made to rise.  "I don’t mind standing--”

“Nonsense, you’re a guest.  I’m certain my companion will recover his good manners in due time.”

The servant immediately straightened, drew back three paces and bowed.  “Apologies, my lord … Inspector Morino.”  Returning to the bookcase near Hatake's right side, he continued glowering at Ibiki even as he took his seat and sipped at the brandy.

“The reason I  never reported the younger Umino's actions was because I felt sorry for him.  I maintained hope we could forge a bond of friendship despite the unpleasantness between our fathers.”  He paused for another sip of brandy, letting it warm him as it sailed over his tongue and down his throat.  “Unfortunately, Iruka remains convinced I’m somehow to blame for his father’s mental decline.”

“I see,” Ibiki said tapping his pen against the notebook, “so, it isn’t the first time he’s accused you of wrongdoing.” 

“Now that he’s here in Konoha, I must put forth an effort to speak with him … have you any idea where I can find him, Inspector?”

“One of the inns in town, I’d imagine.  With all due respect sir, I believe you erred by not reporting his actions to the authorities--”

“Rest assured, had this occurred here, I would have brought it to your immediate attention.  As it happened abroad, I had no desire to cast aspersions on his character or tarnish my own reputation.”

Ibiki looked up from his notes.  “Not sure I understand--”  

“Inspector, you’re a man of the world … think about it.  Had I come to you saying a young, unmarried man was relentless in his pursuit of me, you’d think him odd … am I right?”

“I already think him odd, sir … but for reasons I will not bore you with.”

Hatake softly chuckled, “People overseas think us Japanese peculiar as a whole, what with our seemingly mysterious behaviors.  Had I lodged a complaint with the authorities, Iruka would have been ostracized as a pantywaist, labeled a dandy and shunned by proper society.  We would have been written off as two Oriental men having a ‘lover’s row.’  Probably would’ve jailed both of us for espousing unnatural affections--”

“Yes … I see your point.”

The noise of the pen’s nib as it scratched through a line of text filled the silent room.

“Umino’s two friends … are they here as well?  Those three used to be inseparable.”   Slapping at his knee, he laughed and said, “They were always getting into devilment when they were younger.”

“Acquaintances, were you?”

“Necessity demanded it.  The part of town where Father maintained residence was home to fifty or sixty Japanese people; impossible not to meet everyone at least once.”

“Guess I took it for granted that you lived with your father.”

“Sadly no and now that’s he’s gone,” Hatake breathed, “how wish I’d spent more time at his side.  You see, I lived in Cornwall with a friend of the family most of the year, though I always came up to London at the weekends or during breaks in my studies.”

“Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts on the night Hyuga Hitomi was murdered?”

“He was with me,” Maito said.  “We were on our way back from Sunagakure where we’d attended a symposium.  They honored my master for a journal he’d published.  Would you care to see the award, Inspector?”

“I would,” he said as Maito stood.   “Please understand, sir,” he turned to Hatake saying, “I’m merely compiling evidence for my report.”

“You are a cautious and fair man, Inspector … which I appreciate; with a homicidal maniac running loose, we can’t be too careful these days. There was quite the furor surrounding the questioning of prominent doctors and surgeons months ago and I must say I felt slighted at the exclusion from that cadre of fellows.”

Maito returned before Ibiki could respond, holding forth a cut crystal bowl shaped object bearing the name, _Hatake Kakashi_ with the date awarded, etched into one side.   _Damn! It was the same day Hitomi died. _Travel from Konoha to Suna is a two day carriage ride, and a day's journey by boat,_ _ he thought. _Impossible for him to be here and there at the same time._   “Thank you for indulging me, sir.”

Maito soon snatched it away, grumbling to himself as he placed the trophy on the mantle.

“Speaking of indulgences, let’s see if I can remember Umino’s friends correctly.  There was … Hagane Kotetsu, apprentice to a sword maker.  While he wasn’t the scholarly type,  he had a wisdom born of the earth.  If ever you needed a guide through the deep dark forests, he was your man; dead on accurate with bow and arrow too, I'm told.”

"He is indeed world wise, sir."

Hatake tapped at his chin, “Now, as to the other fellow, Kamizuki Izumo ... I believe he was a medical student. Someone said he practiced alongside a doctor for a time. Not sure if he completed his studies as I remember hearing he became the sole caretaker of the elder Umino in his last months."

“Makes you wonder how they became such good friends,” Ibiki said as he doodled along the side of the page.

 "Indeed.  If memory serves, Izumo's father and Tadashi were half-brothers; same mother, she married again after the first husband died, or was she divorced, Maito?”

The man in the corner simply shrugged his shoulders and slugged down his drink.

“Finally," Hatake continued, "we have … Umino Iruka.  I know of a certainty he received a doctorate in architecture or was it anthropology?”

“I was made to understand his doctorates are in the fields of anthropology and archeology, sir.”

"Yes, of course."  Once more, Hatake leaned forward in his chair.  “Umino Iruka, an academically exceptional young man, though he is also a man given to delusions, as was his father.  Perhaps if I ignore his ravings, he’ll tire of this campaign against me.  What do you think Inspector, is it worth a try?”

“I don't believe so," he said finishing up his notes. "Umino seems hellbent on ruining your reputation. Crossing an ocean in pursuit of one man … wrongheaded as they may be, you have to admire his convictions.  He insists your father, killed his father--”

“After all this time," Hatake sighed,  "that poor lost soul still has his facts jumbled about."

“How bout it then," Ibiki asked as he leaned back in his chair, arms draped over the bolsters,  "what say you clarify these facts?”

Hatake drained his glass before he began.  "My father and Umino Tadashi had long been business partners and friends, but they had a terrible falling out.  The night my father was killed, he'd gone to see if he and Tadashi could make amends."

"Any idea what caused the rift between them, sir?"

“From what I gathered, they'd been working on a controversial project which needed additional funding.  After securing private investors, word of their work leaked to the public.  Naturally, Tadashi and my father blamed one another, which led to a parting of ways.”

“Kamizuki also spoke of a project.  Have you any idea what it was?”

“Afraid not, Inspector.  Specifics of their work, as well the accompanying notes fell to the ages."  He refilled the snifter saying, "Whatever that project was, it had the ultra-religious folk up in arms.   For months afterwards, Father received death threats.  He was hounded by fanatics who hurled accusations at him on the streets; they even formed protest groups outside his home by night.  I think the pressure prompted Father to make his peace with Tadashi.” Transfixed by the liqueur splashing against the sides of the snifter, Hatake continued, “An assailant tracked him to Umino’s home that night, crashed through a window in the study …” his voice trailed off,  “Father was ... decapitated.”

The man in the corner hung his head, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

“I heard the same thing from Kamizuki and Umino, only they implied _you_ were the one who came crashing through the window.”

“Such a traumatic evening for everyone concerned, Inspector.  A rap on the door in the dark of night; the Coroner standing on the stoop of Father’s house and I in my bedclothes.   By the time Maito, the undertaker and I arrived  to claim his body from the Umino residence, the constables were just leaving.  According to their reports, Tadashi attempted to shield my father from the attacker, sustaining wounds to his chest and hands which required medical intervention.”

“Iruka said his father was bloodied, but he left out the part about Tadashi’s attempts to protect your father.”

“As I said … it was a horribly confusing night.  I believe I still have a copy of the constable’s reports somewhere ...  I’ll have Kinoe search the cupboards first thing in the morning.”  

“No need, I’m sure I can send a request for that information.  Yes … I think that might be the best way to ascertain all the facts,” Ibiki said.

Maito rose, signaling it was either time for Ibiki’s departure or time for a refill of his drink.

“Hatake-dono, I’m quite familiar with your father’s work, but didn’t you also work as an anatomist?”

“Father insisted," he chuffed.  "Had to give it up though ... the smell of blood and decaying flesh got to me after a while.  If I’m honest with myself, I grew tired of being compared to the great Hatake Sakumo, had to carve out my own path as it were. As the eldest son of the Morino Kenta, surely you understand what that’s like.”

“You knew my father?”

“Who didn’t?  He was one of the finest equestrian breeders in the five nations.  Father purchased many a stallion and mare from your family.” 

By now, Maito was pacing before the fireplace.

“And how go the renovations to the manor?”

“Slowly. This house was closed up for over forty years; you’d be surprised how much work needs doing.  I’m looking to expand the property, increase its value ... I have a permit to do so, if you'd care to examine it."

“I'm certain you do, sir.  Least that explains excavation of the land by the cemetery. I also hear you’re looking to marry, congratulations.”

“Yet another duty to fulfill as head of a clan… leave descendants to carry on the family name.”

Depositing the notebook and pen in his breast pocket, Ibiki stood and gracefully bowed.  “Again, I apologize for interrupting your work.  Good evening, Hatake-dono.”

He sat the snifter atop the table and stretched his arms over his head.  “I really must get back to work; I've a strict publisher and an even stricter deadline. I do hope we'll have another chance to speak again ... preferably, not when I'm under suspicion.  A pleasant evening to you, Inspector ... Maito will see you out.”    

As they exit, Kinoe slipped inside the salon. “Master,” he said approaching the fireplace, “the younger Umino’s continued presence presents us with a sticky situation.”  

‘That is none of your concern.   Renovations … how much longer until completion?”

“A few days only, my lord. Would you care to review the guest list for the soiree now?”

“No,” he waved him away, “you’re far too gleeful about this invasion of my privacy.  What I want now are six specially prepared invitations, drawn by your hand.”

Grinning broadly, the servant turned about for the short walk to his desk.

“Kinoe,” the master called languidly, swabbing his finger round the snifter’s balloon.  “Where are you going?  Did I not say six ‘ _specially’_ prepared invitations?  Regular ink simply will not do for these.”

Hastening to where the master sat, Kinoe knelt before the table between the chairs and fetched a small spoon like receptacle from a hidden compartment.  His eyes grew wide as the master reverted to his true form, his breath coming in ragged snatches as razor sharp fangs surrounded the fleshy part of his master’s finger when it disappeared between his lips.  With a trembling hand, he caught thick drops of blood as they splashed against the receptacle. Slowly Hatake took on his human appearance, saying, “You’ll need Maito’s help to do this correctly.  Once prepared, this is to be kept in the antechamber until the time of my choosing.” Running his finger over Kinoe’s lips, Hatake smeared the remaining blood from one corner to the other of his servant’s mouth.  “This should keep Maito from attacking you.”

“Thank you Master.  Shall I assume these invitations are for your intended and her kin?”

"Assume nothing. Hasten to do as instructed, lest I withdraw my protection. Maito will be waiting for you inside the vault.”

“Right away, my lord.”

 

Notes:

Dono: when attached to a name, it roughly means "lord" or "master". It does not equate noble status; rather it is a term akin to "Milord" and lies above _Sama_ in level of respect.  

Kenta: healthy, strong or big and stout.

Cadre:  a group of people having some unifying relationship; a small group of people, specially trained for a particular purpose or profession.

Anatomist: an expert in anatomy; one who dissects (the human body in particular) to study its structures in detail.

Chuff:  a sound of or like the exhaust of a steam engine.

Fountain pens were first imported to Japan during the Meiji period.  


	21. Recherche: Through a Glass Darkly

At the clang of metal against stone, Maito lifted his eyes. When pale yellow fingers of light scratched under the vault door, the scent of his master’s blood calls him from the glooming.  Eons of obeisance did his knees make bend, ere he caught the underlying scent of his nemesis. 

“That’s right,” Kinoe said as the door creaked open. “Bow before your betters.”  

And as the shadows enfold him once more, Maito let loose a growl of warning, its timbre fearsome as it ricochets round the room.  

Kinoe kicks closed the door behind him, proudly bearing a small container of master's blood. “Oh, come now … how long will you linger there, snarling and glowering at me?  Up, let us be quick to the task.” 

From the other side of the room, the smudged blood on Kinoe’s lips illumines his face, and Maito rises from a crouch.  He watches as the swinging lantern is secured in place on a hook above the waist high apothecary cabinet in the center of the room, holds his breath as the receptacle of blood is reverently placed on the counter and grinds his teeth when Kinoe beckons him.

 “For my lord will I do anything,” he said, “even if that means working by your side.”

“It’s settled then.  Where are the other ingredients?  

Emerging from the darkness with mortar and pestle in hand, glass vials clink together in his pockets as Maito draws near.  “My work is already done,” he snaps.

“And the incantation … sure you remember both parts of it?”

This time the power of his roar pushes Kinoe back on his heels.  “Spineless cur! You doubt me?”

“Course I do … a walnut sized brain can only hold so much before bursting.” As Maito bristles, he adds with a laugh, “A joke only, calm yourself.  We must work as one … the master wishes it so.”

The invocation of Master’s name and the beguiling smell of his blood cools his anger.  Without another word does Maito place the compounding equipment on the table as he gingerly empties his pockets.  “How much time have we?”

“Twenty-five minutes only; surely we can lay aside our differences for that long.”

“You willingly seek amends?  Maito looks askance with a snarl, “Spit it out.  What is it you desire of me?”

The other man made a show of searching through the lower drawers, a faint smile playing over his lips.  “Master speaks often and very highly of one named Jiraiya.  I want to know who he is.”

A hoarse chuckle filled the space between them. “The all-knowing Kinoe asks this of a beast?   Then it’s true ... curiosity maketh strange bedfellows.

“I’ll have none of your impertinence.  That vial at your right hand, extract nine leaves and crush them into the bowl.”

“Jiraiya … he was a close friend and advisor to lord Sakumo; mentor to lord Kakashi--”

 “Mentor you say?  Well then, I look forward to meeting with him at the upcoming soiree.”

Maito paused for a moment, shaking his head.  “Best pray your paths never cross Kinoe - even Master’s blood won’t keep him from tearing you limb from limb.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I’ll not fear him or any other man on your say so--”

“Then you’re the biggest fool who ever drew breath.  Jiraiya is a creature like unto me … a hundred times wiser and a thousand times more powerful. And like the master, he can see clean through to the heart.  He’d devour you at first sight.”

 “Our lord would not permit such a thing,” he hissed slamming shut one of the drawers.

“Master wouldn’t bat an eyelash, you are an expendable.  Such a pity,” he said sliding the marble mixing pot toward the center of the counter. “How desperate your desire to be master’s right hand, yet you know nothing of his life.”

“Humph … I know one thing, the blood of our master before us compels you speak truth.” A smug grin pulled at his lips as he arranged six blank cards around the mortar’s base.  “And by the power of his blood … I command you to--”

“Silence poltroon! It is unwise to presume your words carry the same gravitas as our lord’s presence.” The pestle clangs against the bowl as he slammed one hand against the console’s surface.   “I speak to your shame, he said, folding those massive arms across his chest, “even the lowliest house servants know of Jiraiya and the important role he plays in the continuance of this family.”

“You’ll pardon me then; I’ve not served the master as long as you and the others. Quickly now,” he said searching about for the quill, “take four leaves from the blue vial and grind them into a fine powder with those in the bowl.”

Over the noise of the pestle and the crunch of dried herbs, he heard Maito say, “It’s not often I get the chance to educate you.  I’ll not forget this.”

Though Kinoe stiffened at the thought, he found himself leaning closer as the other man continued, “At a time predetermined, all Hatake heirs must sit under the tutelage of lord Jiraiya.  Through him they learn the clan’s history that they might assume their rightful place within a hierarchy of demons.  Preparing the heir for his first Great Hunt is but one of lord Jiraiya’s duties.”

“Great Hunt?  I’ve never heard of such a thing--”

“Will ignorance and arrogance forever define you, Kinoe?” 

“Time is ticking against us … just tell me what it is.”

With a sigh, Maito bent down, watching closely as Kinoe measured out the liquid components.  “When numen of high order produce offspring, the babe is subjected to a ritual; the spirits of the clan are conjured and a sacrifice is offered.  The babe’s first meal is the blood of that sacrifice which spills from the lips of one or both of his parents--”

“Ugh! That sounds disgusting!”

“As opposed to eating cockroaches and rats?”

“Hush now!  My diet is but a small price to pay for spending eternity near the master. Stand aside as I add the liquids.”

Each drop of fluid begins to smoke when it meets the dry ingredients. They watch as the mixture, green at first, begins bubbling as it stains the bowl black.

“Now, Maito … the first part of the incantation … do it now!”

His hands hover above the steaming container as he speaks, sparks dance under his palms as the mixture rises and falls, condensing itself into a thick tar like substance.  As Kinoe dangles the quill over the pot, it leaps to the nib; with each stroke Kinoe draws, the ink, red as the blood first drawn from master’s veins, glows above the paper.

“The spirits burn a seal into the babe’s flesh which confers immortality … with a condition.  Over the first ninety-nine years of its existence, the seal slowly disappears as the child grows.  It subsists on the blood of animals delivered him monthly by the Yasha. But his first unassisted kill must come before the one hundredth year or age thirteen as human’s mark time. If the hunt is unsuccessful, the seal reemerges as a curse mark.  His parents, bound by an oath, must then fasten the child to a sacred tree and watch while the Yasha destroy it.”

“Obviously, Master survived this ordeal,” Kinoe smirked as he began work on the second card.

“Only by a hair’s breadth.  Lord Sakumo waited and hoped his son would manifest the powers of his ancestors, but like a night flower, the master blossomed late … the influence of his mother’s blood.”

“Wasn’t she a gaki too? Why would her blood present a problem?”

Maito cast him an incredulous glance.  “When our lord was conceived … his mother was still human.”

Kinoe briefly looked up from his work.  “Human?  But she was lord Sakumo’s bride … under his control …he could have done as he wished--”

“A numen’s desire is mightier than the will of its intended victim, even so, the victim must yield their will and ask the numen for the gift of immortality.”

“I knew that,” he huffed.  “Still, he could have mesmerized her into yielding.”

“No… never had lord Sakumo met a woman like her; Mari … was both her name and her nature.  She possessed neither talismans, or amulets, instead, hers was a fighting spirit, an inner strength which made her impervious to his charms.  Lord Sakumo loved her without restraint; she was his strength and ultimately … his weakness,” he said quietly.  “He would not violate the one thing which drew him to her.  Intrigued and enthralled, he pined for her to the point of wasting.  Only Jiraiya understood the happiness the elder Hatake found in her.  Theirs was a love forbidden, fraught with many the peril.”

By now was Kinoe at work on the fourth invitation. “Go on,” he said.

“She didn’t bear lord Sakumo’s seal and that made her fair game. In this world of demons and creatures, she was an oddity; the softness of her pink flesh, the sound of the blood rushing through her veins proved an irresistible attraction to the other gaki.  When it was revealed she was with child, and that she’d refused the third bite, our world was thrown into pandemonium.”

Kinoe stood, stretching his back and flexing his fingers.  “Now I see where the master gets it from.  He prefers chasing after willful, cunning targets.” 

“He is not unlike his father in many respects.  As the pregnancy progressed, Lady Mari’s obstinacy grew.   Lord Sakumo left her in Jiraiya’s care while he searched the five nations for a potion or spell to extend her longevity. Finding none, he returned home in time for the birth of his son; he alone subjected the babe to the ritual.  So sure was he the family curse would bypass his child, lord Sakumo and Jiraiya conspired to keep the master hidden.  For years, these men defied the spirits of the Hatake ancestors, risking the scorn of the spirits to protect them.   Beloved of his mother, lord Kakashi progressed through life as a normal human child.”

“You make it sound so appalling.”

“I wouldn’t know what it must have been like, never had a desire to understand it--”   

 Finished,” came the triumphant sigh from Kinoe as he straightened from the table. Maito waved his hands over the cards, reciting the last stanzas of the incantation while the ink turned a glistening ebony as it soaked into the paper. 

Gathering up the vials, he said, “Months passed, the gaki grew in number with each full moon as they surrounded the manor.  They knew the seal and its protection were vanishing from the master’s body.  They waited for a chance to strike when lady Mari and the child were unguarded. They would have tortured him.”

“Thought protecting the Master was your job too.”

“Even then, I was still under the protection of my father; the gaki would’ve torn me to pieces.   However, one week shy of the hundredth year did his powers awaken while lords Sakumo and Jiraiya were away.

 “I knew it!  Master defeated them all, didn’t he?”

Maito left the question hanging in the air as he walked to the other end of the room. “Our master went on a killing spree, that much is true, but it was contained to the manor.  In one night, he slaughtered ten of his servants.” As he returned the vials, mortar and pestle to their places he said, “Next morning did our lord awake, screaming at the top of his lungs as he stumbled over the bloodied and broken bodies littering his bedchamber. He ran to the safety of his mother’s arms.  Lady Mari had no idea what was happening to him and lord Kakashi had no memory of what he’d done.”

“Surely you lie, Maito!  Are you saying our lord was unaware of his destiny until that night? Why couldn’t you have stopped--?”

“He’d shown no signs of his heritage beforetime, but that night was the master beyond reason and I, no match for the fury boiling inside him.  Lords Sakumo and Jiraiya sensed the turmoil as it reached its peak within the young master, arriving from the Land of Earth in time to prevent further destruction.  Jiraiya only had a few days in which to teach our lord to channel his instinct to kill. The night of the Great Hunt found lord Kakashi ill prepared for the challenges which lay ahead.  And yet … the Fates smiled on him and the spirits of his ancestors guided him successfully.  That same night, lady Mari who feared for her child, relented and received the final bite, though she would not live to see her son come through this rite of passage.”

Removing a wide slender container from one of the drawers, Kinoe broke the quill in several pieces, dropping them into the ash box and setting them aflame.  “Well … what happened to her?”

“She pushed lord Sakumo from her side, insisting she’d greet him and lord Kakashi as they returned home victorious.  He left reluctantly, so I was told.   But lady Mari was beyond the age where the third bite would have given her necessary strength,” he said bracing himself against the far wall.  “Her determination was not sufficient and in her weakened state, both she and her handmaids were defeated before she could quit herself of her chambers.  Her servants killed, lady Mari was dragged from the manor--”

“The other gaki did this?”

“The third bite sealed her as lord Sakumo’s true bride; they could not raise a hand against her.  The assailants that night were humans of the Hyuga clan.  Armed with talismans most powerful, they pierced through her heart as she prepared to join the hunt; they tied her body to a tree by ropes intertwined with the same talismans.”

“No wonder, I’ve never heard the master speak of his mother.”

“It was a terrible loss.  The power of the third bite made her vampirical as was lord Sakumo.  A note left in her chambers, a frantic search through the woods; her screams of pain as the rising sun ate through her body, guided lord Sakumo to her location.  It was for naught.  In the place where she’d stood was only a silvery pile of ashes.”

“Ah, Hitomi … she was sacrificed for revenge?”

“Her sacrifice set right a heinous wrong,” he said walking back to the center of the room.  Maito turned his back on Kinoe, leaning against the console.  “I remember the frustration my father felt; the elder Hatake, inconsolable over lady Mari’s death … my father unable to comfort him.  For months, lord Sakumo couldn’t bring himself to explain her death to his son … they grew distant, the elder Hatake wallowing in the belly of anguish, blaming himself, the resentment of our lord growing toward his father as time passed.”

“Maito … you knew all of this, you should have told him--”

“I learned the truth the same night as our master.  At Jiraiya’s urging, lord Sakumo sat us down and explained everything. Such news was too great … lord Kakashi lost control of himself … went prowling beyond the manor gates, seeking vent for his anger.”

 “Who could fault him?  Aggrieved he was--!” 

“Yes … but by the time he learned the truth, other factors were coming into play.  The curse of this family was taking root, sorrow aged him and the rapid changes in his mind and body adversely affected him.”

“I was once human and I know why he changed,” Kinoe boasted.  “You said a gaki’s one hundredth year is equivalent to thirteen human years … that’s the age when mortals enter pubescence.”

“Puberty … I’ve heard of this phenomenon; it is powerful indeed.  Before the Great Hunt, master was possessed of equanimity, studious and obedient; afterwards, did his temper flare quickly and burn hotter, he became foul of mouth and dark of mood.  He killed not to feed, but for amusement sake, skinning alive his victims as they pleaded for death.  Lord Sakumo allowed him free rein, living vicariously through the rage of his son …until the night he killed three young women. Their bodies brutalized, torn asunder by his repeated sexual assault.  Dumped in the forest like so much garbage they were, all because four witnesses happened upon the ritual intended to destroy the evidence.”

“Why didn’t the gaki destroyed the interlopers?”

“On the master’s word, they would have.  But as he stood in the center of the ritual circle, he recognized one of the men gaping at them through the trees; that man was Senju Hisao. And as the master was in his human form, Hisao recognized him as well.  Lord Kakashi fled, confessing his transgression to his father and receiving the brunt of his wrath.”

“You mean that scar over his eye … his father did that?”

“No.  The night lord Sakumo met his end, Umino Tadashi swung his sword, intending to kill the master as well. The master leapt out of way, yet he will forever bear the scar.”

“So that’s what happened.  When he came back to claim me as his servant, I was too afraid to ask about the bandages he wore.” He swept his hand over the surface brushing dried stems into the ash container.  “So, this Senju, he was an ancestor of the current Governor I take it.” 

“Had they killed Hisao that night, the Hyuga or Shimura clans would have torn the land apart in a struggle for control.  Allowing Hisao to live and tell his story would have implicated lord Kakashi ... had anyone believed him.  In the end, lord Sakumo decided it best for all to quit Konoha.  A month later, we set sail for Cornwall where Jiraiya had numerous contacts. We lived in peace … the master sat under Jiraiya’s teachings, honing his skills on the moors and in the bogs and lord Sakumo branched out, establishing a home in London where he worked as an anatomist. That’s where he met Yamada Kenichi. They formed a bond because of Yamada’s interest in the occult and through that association, lord Sakumo came to know Umino Tadashi.”

“Cornwall ... that’s where I met our lord.  I was working as a night clerk at the hospital where he was training.  You’re right … master was different back then; kind of heart, an ever-present smile on his lips and I was--”

“Smitten, like a silly, love-struck girl. You fawned over him, having desires unnatural … I detested your very existence from the first time I laid eyes on you.”

“Goodness, do I detect a hint of jealousy Maito?  You act as if he’s never turned to you for physical comfort--”

“You gave him your body,” he sneered, “hoping for a measure of control over him … he took your soul. Be no longer deceived Kinoe.  The master has never suffered want of a bed warmer; you were nothing more than an escapade into depravity … a toy he used till he grew tired and cast you aside.  I am joined to the master, mind, spirit and soul, and as his property, I am a valuable tool which serves higher pursuits--”

“Is that so? Humph … once a month he lets you off the leash like a dog and you tear through the forests, an irrational quadruped, baying at the moon and devouring the flesh and fat of men.  You dare look down on me, Maito?”

“I do.  But as we live under the same roof, we want what’s best for the master and we would do whatever he asks to please him, I could learn to respect you … give or take a few thousand years.”

Kinoe bent down, searching for something beneath the cupboard.  Standing, he sat the heavy iron case between them.  “We don’t have to be friends, but we needn’t continue as enemies either.  Master needs the unique skills we both possess; I too could learn to respect you…eventually.”  With the invitations stowed away, he returned the container to its place.  “Now then … I’ll hear more of this tale, minus the insolence if you please.”

As he reached out for the lantern, it cast an eerie glow over Maito’s face, its flame flickering when his breath ghosted over the aperture as it sat on the cabinet top.

“The last six months in Cornwall, Jiraiya started receiving reports about the gaki in Konoha.  They were multiplying at an alarming rate and would continue to do so without a leader to focus their energies.  At the time, lord Kakashi was too weak to control an entire territory so the elder Hatake dispatched Jiraiya to keep an eye on them.”  He picked up the lantern and started for the door saying, “Two months before he was killed, lord Sakumo summoned the master to London for he knew Umino was plotting against him.  During the final month of his life, over a three-night phase of the full moon, lord Sakumo transferred his memories and three quarters of his power to our master. My father likewise bequeathed his wisdom and strength to me.”

“I always wondered why it was so easy for a human to kill him, ” Kinoe whispered.  “Lord Sakumo had already given up the ghost.”

 As the door slammed closed behind them, Maito turned and said, “His powers were a parting gift to the son he loved more than he could say. Now is lord Sakumo joined with the woman he loved too much; I trust their spirits will continue to guide our lord.”

“I’ll ask one thing more.  Master’s eye.  I’ve seen it only once; it was blood red with tiny black circles that swirled about.  Can he … see--?”

“Farther than you could comprehend, Kinoe.  The sword Umino used was coated with a poison - which eroded the tissues surrounding his eye. But what should have been a liability, instead proved another blessing from his ancestors.  The son lord Sakumo never thought would come into the power of the clan, now possess a trait which lay dormant since Hatake Kama’s time.”

“This Kama, who was he?”

The swinging lantern cast wide their shadows as he and Kinoe walked side by side down the long passageway.

 “Ah, Kinoe … you’ve so much to learn.”

 

 

 Notes:

Obeisance: a movement of the body expressing deep respect or deferential courtesy, as before a superior.

Glooming: total or partial darkness.  

Askance:  with suspicion or distrust.

Poltroon:  wretched coward, craven; marked by utter cowardice.

Gravitas: importance in manner causing feelings of respect.

Bedfellows: temporary allies.

Mari means obstinacy or rebelliousness.

Aggrieved: afflicted with pain, anxiety; feeling resentment over having been treated unjustly.

Equanimity: mental or emotional stability, especially under tension or strain; calmness.

 


	22. Pieces of the Puzzle

 

So much has happened in the span of two and a half weeks.

During an elaborate ceremony in the town square, Lady Tsunade signed the first of many import/export accords with Europe, England specifically; these days she entertains lawyers and envoys from France and Italy and her nights are spent either hosting or attending elegant dinner gatherings.

Having settled into their new home, Iruka, Izumo and Kotetsu are still ironing out the details of what still seems a dodgy gamble. And poor Ibiki, he's worn a path from his home to the post office and worn out his welcome with the kindly post master as he impatiently awaits delivery of police reports from London.

As another dawn silently breaks at the beginning of the fourth week, haggard factory workers exchange greetings as they begin or end a long shift while other of the town residents push themselves from cozy beds. The docks have been humming as well; for every two ships steaming toward the west laden with finished products, two more filled with raw materials find mooring in their empty berths.

And lest we forget, Konoha's 'mating season' is just about to reach its peak. The affluent hold their collective mint scented breaths in anticipation of the final event –

a grand soiree at the Hatake estate.

It is there in the belly of the manor house near the cemetery, inside a dimly lit vault, we find two faithful servants standing on either side of the apothecary cabinet. Down the stairs and along the corridor, they hear the measured steps of their master approaching. Kinoe shifts from foot to foot, his breaths quickening with each second as he keeps an eye on the door; Maito's stance is relaxed, his eyes lowered, arms held loosely at his sides.

When the footsteps cease …

an atramentous mist seeps through the stone wall

and suddenly is their lord upon them.

Standing inches from Maito, the master eerily smiles and says, "The hour draws near … you can feel it too, can't you?

"Yes, my lord."

"The atmosphere crackles with tension … the guardedness of my chosen makes heavy the breezes."

"Save one, my lord."

The master cocked his head to side, chuckling softly. "In due time will he fear me Maito, as befits a loyal subject. Quickly, bring it hither."

Without delay does the bondservant bow low as he backs away to retrieve the iron box beneath the cabinet. In the bat of an eye is he kneeling at the master's feet; his palms steadily supporting the heavy container as it is raised above his head, its contents laid bare for master's inspection. In the same moment, the temperature inside the vault plunges as master's clothing and his suit of flesh rip in half and melt away.

Translucent, blue tinged skin glistens in the light cast from the solitary lantern; powerful sinews bulge and ripple as lord Hatake assumes his full height. When he stretches forth an appendage, Kinoe finds himself quaking in awe. Like those of a thaumaturge, clawed phalanges wave over the box. From each talon flows a thick green miasma which draws the six cards upward, suspending them in midair. The eyes of their master, one a gangrenous yellow, the other blood red, take on a telestic gleam while his laughter stabs through the dank air.

"Now shall the last be first."

One of the cards breaks away from the others, swirling around the head and shoulders of their lord before coming to rest on its edge against an outstretched manus.

"This one is for my primary target," he said as it gently tumbled to the ground beside Maito's foot.

"You will take care to deliver it into his hands."

"Consider it done, master."

"As for you, Kinoe, the names of the other recipients are on your desk in the salon. You will visit each one in turn according to my instructions."

"Thank you, my lord."

In the span of a breath, the master is standing directly before him. "Beware, Kinoe … should the ink be disturbed by clumsy handling, it will nullify the desired effect. Salt won't save you from my wrath should that happen."

"Yes," he swallowed hard, "I will exercise the greatest of care my lord."

Kinoe was trembling to beat the band as the master towered over him; thick, whetted fangs bared. "See that you do."

He took a few steps back, his eyes still locked onto his thunderstruck servant as layers of human skin and clothing of silk shroud the splendor of his true form.

In a puff of grey smoke, he vanished.

"Well," Maito snarled, "don't just stand there with your mouth agape. Take these and let us be about our lord's business."

"You know," he said turning toward the cabinet, "this ink … I made it once before with another servant. Master took the mixing pot from my hand shortly thereafter and I never had a chance to see how it works," he said collecting the cards. "Oh damn it!"

"Are you that hungry for punishment that you smudged 'em already?"

"No... I took every detail into consideration as I planned… anticipated every contingency-"

"Hell are you mumbling about?"

"I agreed to provide lodging for many of the guests ... here … in this house."

"So what?"

In a panic, he clawed at the other man's forearm. "The soiree, you fool … it takes place during the phase of a full moon! I've put out Master in an untenable situation. How will he feed?"

"What are you … stupid?" Maito bellowed as he shook himself free. "If you do not yet understand the simplest things, how can you think yourself worthy of the house of Hatake?"

"He'll destroy me for certain."

"Don't raise my hopes. Kinoe. If master meant you harm … you'd be a bloody stain by now." Dropping the box to the floor, he kicked it under the cabinet. "Be grateful, you still breathe after you failed to prioritize his needs. If I were the master, you'd be a midafternoon snack for the yokai," he said wistfully. "Now show yourself appreciative of his mercy by doing as he ordered."

"You're right, of course," he said wiping the sweat from his brow. "It was an honest mistake … still, I'm not sure what to expect after I deliver the invitations. Should I wait for a written response or should I-?"

"Only after you carry out his instructions will you understand what needs doing. Begone!"

Kinoe grabbed the cards and the lantern, hurrying down the corridor and up the stairs. Racing to the salon, he found the list of recipients lying next to a carefully plotted diagram, a velvet lined pouch and five sheets of vellum.

**Recherché**

Kotetsu rubbed at his eyes, hoping he was seeing things. "So glad one of us had a wild night. You just gettin' up or never been to bed?"

Gesturing toward the kitchen, Izumo told him, "The water's still hot enough for tea."

"Gee thanks. Where's Ruka?"

"In bed … like I should be. Must you stand over my shoulder, scratching yourself like an animal?"

"Not like I got fleas or something. You know, I woulda joined ya guys last night if you'd asked."

"And you would've hated every minute," he yawned, "lot of reading and complex thought involved. Go on then, get your tea." He shook his head and grinned as Kotetsu staggered toward the kitchen. "So, what's on your plate for today?"

"I'd like some toast and eggs … oh, you mean… why? You thinkin' about dragging me to the temple again? Cause if you are, so help me Zumo, I'll bust ya in the chops!"

"No temple today, I've enough information here to keep me busy for the rest of the week."

After nosily rummaging through the cabinets, he poked his head into the other room, "Hey! Where's the sugar?"

 _Next to your mug,_ Izumo thought, s _ame place it is every morning when you ask that question._

"Found it, it was next to my mug. I was thinkin' about going fishing. Gotta check the traps anyway … wanna come?"

"Nah, you've earned a frolic in the woods. I wouldn't want to deprive you of that."

"Frolic, my eye," he called from the kitchen. "Somebody round here has to gather up firewood and tote water for you lazy bums."

"The effort … always appreciated."

 He slugged down a mouthful of tea and wearily propped himself against the door frame. "Mind movin' some of this junk outta the way so I can sit down?"

Izumo dropped his pen with a sigh, grudgingly shifting a stack of papers from the table to the floor. "I'd almost forgotten how pleasant you are first thing in the morning. And this 'junk,' as you call it, is but one box of Tadashi's notes. There's two more we've yet to open."

"Man … how much longer is this gonna take?"

"I don't know … still trying to familiarize ourselves with all the amulets Tadashi accumulated--"

"I thought everything we needed was in the valise?"

"Iruka gave some of them to Michio to research and repair. No idea where he's hiding the others."

"Damn! I'm itchin' to lop Hatake's head off, but at the rate you two are goin' we'll be old men before that happens."

Iruka stumbled from his room just then and veered toward the kitchen. "My … aren't we bloodthirsty this morning?"

"Yeah, bloodthirsty, it's part of my overall charm," Kotetsu said. "Thought you were having a lie in."

"Couldn't sleep," he sighed. "Been wracking my brain for a way to conceal the amulets in our clothing-"

"Ruka, you're making this way too complicated," he said stepping out of his way. "I say we stuff the damn things in our pockets and be done with it … what, can't their power radiate through fabric?"

"I'm sure it can," Iruka said as he shook the kettle. "We have to be mindful and stealthy because in a struggle, they could be dislodged."

"Some of the amulets will keep Hatake at a distance," Izumo added as he cleared another space at the table, "but to render him immobile, others need to be in direct contact with his body--"

"Gimme a break, I know that, Zumo. And for the record, Hatake doesn't worry me as much as the army of gaki under his control. They're gonna run interference for him, you realize that right?"

"If the amulets are strong enough to humble a demon … low level gaki won't be a problem," Iruka countered when he took a seat at the table. "We know what to do with Hatake once he's cornered … where we've been hitting a brick wall is finding a way to capture him when he's alone."

"See," Kotetsu smirked as he sat down, "this is exactly why you snobs should've included me in your think tank. I'm not just a pretty face … I know stuff too. And like it or not, Ruka … you gotta get close, gotta let the enemy think he knows you …

then you strike."

Izumo rolled his eyes saying, "Thanks for pointing out the obvious."

"I'm not talkin' about physical distance, ya twit. What I mean is … his father worked elbow to elbow with Hatake's old man, right? That gave him knowledge of and access to-"

"Letting him think we mean no harm … not going to work. He already knows we have the weaponry-"

"Yeah, but Zumo, we're puny humans with weak minds in his book. If we can make him think we're soft on this revenge thing-"

"You think we can fool an omnipotent being into--?"

"What? Can he read minds too?"

"Hang on, you might have something there, my cloddish friend. Iruka, didn't you say the Governor was pestering you to meet with her and Hatake? Maybe that's the route we should take-"

"I wanna cut out his heart and smash it under my foot, Zumo, not sit around sipping tea and eating finger sandwiches with him."

"But if you go through with this meeting, it'll look like you want to settle your differences. Come on Ruka, I've seen ya fake sincerity, hundreds of times."

"Like when he smiles and agrees to go along with your crazy ideas?"

"Clam up Zumo … not gonna hurt to try."

"As if he'd believe my sudden change of heart; sorry pal, Hatake is not stupid."

"Okay then, Iruka, what about the other thing… you know … the guy?"

"Guy?" Kotetsu asked, "What guy?"

"Hmm... might not arrive in time; we've less than a week before the full moon--"

"Who, that little monk? Is he the guy?"

"At this point, a small gesture is better than nothing. We can't keep crossing our fingers, hoping Hatake will blunder into our path alone and devoid of power. That might take months and who knows how many victims he intends to-?"

"Hello? Who's the guy?"

"Zumo, the forces of good and right are on our side. If we just keep moving forward, the Fates are going to favor us eventually."

"That's crazy talk! And you know something else ... it's fine," Kotetsu huffed as he folded his arms across his chest, "don't tell me who this guy is."

"Listen ya hothead, we can't very well knock on a man's front door and chop his head off; we don't even know where he lives."

"Then let the Governor set up a meeting between you two. Hell, I'll follow Hatake back to his house, since you're both so scared--"

"I'd rather keep losses minimal on our end.  Stalking a demon on your own … it's too risky."

"Yeah, well coming all this way without a firm plan ... kinda stupid if you ask me."

"I have a plan," Iruka ground out, "its missing a component, that's all."

"Look, I trust you man … but, this is frustrating, you know? We're so close and now we're runnin' outta time."

"I'm frustrated too, Tetsu, but we can't rush something like this."

"Yeah, yeah, so, this 'guy' is the missing component. What if he never shows up … then what? I mean, what's he got that we don't already have?"

Iruka closed his eyes, rubbing away a headache. "His father was a student of the dark arts, a mystic, if you will-"

"Great, just what we need … another layabout gettin' in the way and slowin' us down-"

"Tetsu will you let him finish please?"

Unfazed, Iruka continued, "This man trained his son to carry on his work. I found all their information in Father's papers, sent him a letter before we left London."

"Oh, well, if he's got good penmanship skills ... that'll intimidate Hatake."

Iruka cut his eyes at his friend, "I'm sure I told you this the night we went to the diner; you probably weren't listening then either. Anyway, this young man has mastered a technique that lets him keep a target under remote surveillance-"

"We get the layout and routine of the house down pat without drawing attention to ourselves," Izumo explained. "Knowing when and how to strike gives us the advantage."

"Yes, but here's the thing," Iruka bowed his head and said, "I never got a response to my letter."

"Oh, that's wonderful! Can this crap storm get any bigger?"

"By the Buddha's beard ... will you be quiet for a minute?"

"No! The both of ya need to listen to me for a change!  Ruka, this _guy_ , that you never met before and don't really know, is supposed to travel all the way to Konoha from wherever the hell he lives, and share a mystical technique with us, just because you wrote him a letter? Does that sound stupid to anybody else at this table, or is it just me?

"He's not some random 'guy,' Tetsu, he's family. Third cousin twice removed or something like that … on my maternal grandmother's side."

"This is ridiculous! I need to get outta here before I say something I can't take back." The empty mug overturned when Kotetsu stood; marching to the door, he almost ripped the nail from the wall when he snatched up his jacket. "Not sure whether I'm angry, disappointed or as crazy as you are, Ruka.  I promised to stick by ya til the end ... just can't stand lookin' at ya right now."

"Come on man ... Tetsu, don't be like that--"

SLAM!

After the dust settled, Izumo took another beat and looked to Iruka.

"That went better than expected, don't you think?"

Notes:

In days of old, salt was believed to ward off the power of evil spirits.

Atramentous: black as ink.

Thaumaturge: a worker of miracles.

Telestic: mystical.

Manus: the distal segment of the forelimb of a vertebrate; including the carpus and the forefoot.

Whetted: something made sharp or keen.

Vellum: translucent material prepared animal skin; it was used as a material for writing.


	23. Pieces of the Puzzle Plummet into Place

Ivory chopsticks slam against their rest on a silver serving tray as the timid servant trembles in the doorway of his master’s bedchamber.

“Was it your intention to rob my appetite?”

“No, my lord, I --”

“Imbecile! That name … _Hatake_   it is taboo in this house!”

“Please, forgive me my lord.”

 The man propped up his massive bed nearly overturned the bed tray when he pushed it away.  “I’m already sick to my stomach … might as well tell me; what is the nature of this man’s inquiry?”

“I only know he comes bearing a missive ... thought it best to inform you before--”

In a rage, he snatched the linen napkin from his collar and twisted it in his hands.  “You will do three things.  One, march back downstairs this instant; two, inform that man in no uncertain terms that the head of the Uchiha wishes no association with that cursed house.  Finally, you will bodily escort him from my property.  Move, damn you!”

The servant made to turn himself about, “Pardon, my lord.  Thought you might want to know, the message he carries was intended for the young master.”

“Then is this new head of the Hatake a greater idiot than you,” chuckled Fugaku as he leaned against the mountain of pillows behind him. Reaching for the crumpled napkin, he carefully laid it across his lap.  “My eldest son is an impatient and ruthless man … he will suffer no talk of peace between our houses.”  Slowly did he pull back the bed tray.  Discarded chopsticks poised in his left hand, he stabbed at a chunk of grilled salmon on his plate, saying, “Here now are your new orders.  Lead this Hatake scum out to the back garden.  Make certain he rudely interrupts my son while he sits alone with his weapons and dark thoughts.  Then ... prepare for bloodshed.”

 His servant bowed and hastened from the room. 

After what seemed like hours, was Kinoe guided from the salon and into the study. This room, cavernous, the dark wood paneling made it feel as if the walls were closing in upon him.  Yet the second they stepped foot on the stoa, Kinoe was at once drowning in a tranquil sea of panoramic beauty.  Beams of sunlight crisscrossed the path before him; the silica deposits in the stone reflecting the light like stars.  Gentle wisteria scented breezes coaxed music from brass wind chimes as he walked beneath them.  Stately elms ring the vast gardens, chrysanthemums explode in vivid colors before his eyes and fat orange and white koi break the surface of a pond to feed on grey mosquitoes with bellies of red.   

“The young lord is seated to your right, just beyond the path's end,” the servant told him. “You must announce your presence loudly, as he does not hear well.”

As promised, there to his right, about twenty yards from the end of the pathway, a slender young man sat alone on a bench of carved white marble.  His hair, bluish black was tied in a low tail against the nape of his neck; errant strands fluttered against the creamy ecru of his kimono.

“Good morning, lord Itachi,” he called. When the man didn’t respond, Kinoe skirted around the bench that he might bow before him.   “So sorry to intrude this early, but my master, lord Hatake, has a request most urgent.”

A gentle smile spread across the young man’s lips when Kinoe stood erect. The young man’s eyes, black as coal were so warm and welcoming.

“You dare sully the air around the home of my ancestors … speaking that befouled name without regard for your life?”

There was scarcely time to draw a breath before the young man was standing behind Kinoe, a sharp blade pressed to his throat.

“Speak truth while you can,” the young man hissed. “What is the meaning of your presence here?”

Just then, on the second floor of the manor, the curtains snapped closed as Lord Fugaku returned to his bed with a sly grin.  _That’s my boy,”_ he thought _._

 “My lord,” Kinoe said softly as he raised the card to eye level. “I was told… to deliver this into your hands.”

Painfully pulling the trembling hand closer, Itachi extracted the card between his fingers. He studied it carefully before pushing the messenger to the ground.  Gasping for breath, Kinoe turned about, looking up in time to see the characters leap from the stationery and race up the other man’s arms with lightning speed.  With eyes widened in fear, Kinoe watches the characters converge in the center of the young man’s chest, sinking into the silken robe with a high-pitched whine.  Suddenly, lord Itachi opens his mouth in a silent scream as he's thrown forward onto his knees.  Tears of blood singe furrows beneath the young man’s eyes as they track down his face. His body violently shakes as an ebony froth bubbles from the corners of his mouth. 

Kinoe scooted backward in horror, torn between running for help and staying put to make sure the man would survive. 

 _“It … shall be,”_ Itachi choked out _, “as … you’ve … requested …_

_my lord … Hatake.”_

Tense moments pass as Itachi clutches at his chest.  Suddenly, he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and slowly rose to his feet.  Gone were the trails of blood that once ran down his cheeks, only thin lines remain etched in his skin.  A pleasant smile plasters itself across Itachi's lips as he bows low before Kinoe and turns himself about.  Down the stoa was the unsteady clack of his shoes heard; into the house he walked without speaking another word.  By the time Kinoe ran to the end of the pathway, the same servant that led him out onto the walkway is trembling behind the glass doors of the study. Fumbling with the latch, the houseman hastily gestures for Kinoe to flee.  The slate floors are slick under his soles as he runs and out the wide open front door he bolted.  Sprinting down the outside stairs, he hoisted himself onto his mount; turning the reins in his hands, he dug in his heels and sped toward the main gate. 

A mile away at the next house on the list, Kinoe has settled himself; with a shaky hand, he scratched a line through Uchiha Itachi’s name _._

_I hope to the gods the other ones aren’t like that._

 

**Recherché**

Taking the bundle of mail from the postman with a smile, Shizune strolled into the Governor’s office intending to take her time sorting it at the conference table.

“Lady Tsunade! Did you sleep here last night?”

Slowly lifting her head from the desktop, she growled, “Don’t be ridiculous.  Knew there’d be a mountain of papers waiting for me this morning so I came in early … that alright with you?”

“Yes, ma’am, it’s just …I didn’t think you had an appointment until this afternoon--”

“I don’t …its gonna take me until then to get through all this … stuff.”  Right then, Tsunade buried her head in her hands and whimpered, “My god, if I have to sit through one more butt numbing dinner party this week, I’ll tear my hair out.”

“I envy you ma’am … dressed in stylish clothes, evenings of dancing and elegant dining, it all sounds like great fun.  Charming foreign men, all of them vying for your attention--”

“All they want is my signature on the dotted line, Shizune.  You have no idea what’s it like; choking back a groan every time a drunken 'translator' mangles the Japanese language, trying not to yelp in pain when they stomp on my toes as we dance, forcing myself to look interested in whatever the hell they're talking about when I’d rather be at home curled up with a good book--”

“If it’s any comfort ma’am, those envoys are leaving tomorrow--” 

“Yes, but then the Dutch arrive.”

“Milady, why don’t you stretch out on the couch for a while?  I’ll go through the paperwork, write up a synopsis of each and--”

“You’d do that for me, Shizune?”

“Of course, anything to make light your load, ma’am.”

She rose cautiously from behind the desk casting a forlorn look at the papers lying there and then, a timid glance at her brightly smiling assistant.  “Almost bit your head off earlier … sorry, I’m just … so damned tired.”

“I’ll fetch some strong tea and order a light breakfast. You can rest until the afternoon.”

“You’re a dear … thanks. Hope I never have to find out what I’d do without you.”

**Recherché**

“Come to think of it, there was quite a chill in the air last night.  Hell must have frozen over as somebody from house Hatake now darkens our doorstep. What do you want?”

“My master extends his greetings and an invitation to lord Orochimaru--”

 “I’ll see he gets it,” he said reaching out for the card Kinoe held.

“I think not, Kabuto.  I was charged to give this directly into your master’s hand. Surely you understand how grievous is the penalty for disobeying orders, do you not? Or might it be, you enjoy being your master’s whipping boy?”

The other man smiled, adjusting his spectacles with a bony index finger. “Right you are, Kinoe … on both counts.  Follow me please.”

The interior of the house was colder than a winter’s morning.  Kinoe shivered the entire time they walked along the corridor, half expecting to see his breath in the frosty air. It was even colder as he stepped inside the library.

“Well, well, what have we here,” lord Orochimaru chuckled, “a message from lord Hatake?  Leave us, Kabuto.”

“Yes, my lord.”

When the door clicked closed, the master of the manor rose from his seat to stand before Kinoe. “Now then, how can I be of service to the house Hatake?”

“My master has planned an evening of sophisticated entertainment.  He’d be most appreciative if you can join in the festivities.”

"Ah yes, the last soiree of the season.  Alas, I am a man of advanced age.  Is it his hope I will find fulfillment or happiness in a bride?"

"That, my lord I do not know. The whims of my master are far beyond the comprehension of a mere servant.”

“Well, I guess it’s never too late for happiness,” he said, stretching out his hand.

The moment his fingers touched the card, Kinoe saw the characters transform into a hissing, white, snakelike creature which made a beeline for the center of Orochimaru’s forehead.  He too dropped to his knees, as did lord Itachi.  While he clutched his head in pain, Kinoe laughed to himself as the old man said, 

_“Your wish … my command … so it shall be ...my lord Hatake."_

He gave the other man a moment to collect himself, before reaching down to help him stand. “Shall I tell my master you will grace us with your presence?"

“Yes… I count it an honor to be among his guests,” Orochimaru said with a graceful bow.

This time, Kinoe walked away with confidence as Kabuto glared daggers into his back.

The same scenario, minus the cold, unfolded when he delivered the invitation to lord Danzou.

 _Now I understand,_ he thought as he turned his mount in the direction of the town.  _As the ink_ _soaks into their skin, the will of the Master becomes the recipient’s consuming desire._

_Three down … two to go._

  **Recherché**

Vexed by the stack of Raidou and Aoba’s reports, Ibiki let out an irritated huff when he sunk into his chair. _The hell are these buffoons up to now? Umino, taking weekly meetings with the Governor … the other two spending hours at the Temple twice a week; what, are they studying to become monks or something?  And why on earth is the--?_  

“Inspector, someone here to see you.”

 _Damn it!  Can I never have a moment to myself?_  “Door’s open Sakai,” he barked, hiding the reports under another folder. 

“So good to see you again sir,” Kinoe said.  “Might I come in?” 

Leaning his forearm on the desk, Ibiki eyed the other man warily as he stepped forward without bidding. “What can I do for you, Kinoe?”

“Apologize for the intrusion Inspector; do hope I’m not too late.”

“For what?”

Proudly he came closer, laying the card atop a stack of papers near Ibiki’s right hand.  “This.  Lord Hatake asked me to prepare a special invitation for you weeks ago,” he sheepishly said.  “I only remembered today because he asked after your response.  To spare myself, I already told him you already said yes. Making such an assumption put me in the wrong.  I’m sorry.”  Kinoe smiled broadly as the other man's expression softened.  “I could tell him you had to rescind acceptance; what with protecting the influx of emissaries from abroad, my master would understand.  However, I’d be eternally grateful if you didn’t let on how slothful I was about--” 

 “Gotcha.  But me … at a soiree?  I’m hardly the high society type.”

“Quiet as its kept, neither is my master; he prefers small informal gatherings.  Oh, careful Inspector … with the humidity and the viscosity of this new ink, I don’t think it’s completely dry.”

“The calligraphy is exceptional,” Ibiki whistled  as he scooped up the card. “You did this?”

“Yes sir.   My skill with the pen is the only reason I think master keeps me employed.”

“Rare to see young people practicing the art nowadays,” he said when one of the characters smudged beneath his fingers.  “Damn it, now I’ve gone and ruined your hard work--”

“Now, now … don’t trouble yourself Inspector.”

“Hmm … a huge party with loads of people in fancy dress; I don’t usually go in for that sort of thing.”

“Well, it is the final party of the season … I doubt the master will let me talk him into hosting another like this.  Several dignitaries are coming from all Four Nations with their security officers … you can always talk shop, exchange ideas--”

“Not exactly an incentive for me to attend.”

“We’ve also booked entertainment not usually seen round these parts, Inspector; fan dancers from the Land of Earth--”

“Land of Earth, eh?  I’ve heard their … spirited gyrations can make deaf men hear and lame men walk.”

"So I’ve been told, that's why they will be entertaining only in the Master's private salon." While he was speaking, Kinoe saw the ink begin to glisten and the Inspector's eyes glaze over.  The characters slowly lifted from the card and crawled along Ibiki's arms while he muttered words insensible.  Marching along his shoulders like soldiers, the characters met at the apex of the Inspector’s head and dove into his scalp.   

Unlike the others, there came no strangled cries of allegiance from this man’s lips.

 Still transfixed by the card’s effect, Ibiki mumbled to himself, “ _Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”_ For a moment, Ibiki squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his thoughts shifting about like someone was rearranging furniture inside his head.  All the while, his brain was yelling ‘NO’ and yet he heard a ‘YES’ leap from his throat.

“You were saying, Inspector?”

Patting the top of his paper covered desk, he found his pen and said, “Tell lord Hatake I will attend, but I’ve one … small request.”

With the carefully scrawled note in hand and a quick bow, Kinoe turned to leave.  “Thank you for your time and most importantly, I thank you for keeping my confession secret.”

Ibiki waved him off, still mesmerized by the tiny card he held.

Hurrying from the constabulary, Kinoe headed for the Administrative complex.  And now, he stands tall inside the conference room awaiting the Governor.

“Ah, you grow more beautiful each time we meet, milady.”

“I’ve just awakened from a nap; my eyes are puffy and there are lines imprinted on my cheek.  Remind me to have Shizune schedule an appointment for you with the eye doctor,” she laughed.  “Surely you didn’t come all this way to tell me pretty lies; what news have you from lord Hatake?”

“First, I apologize for my tardiness, but I come bearing an invitation to the--”

“Soiree, yes of course.  I’m honored … but I cannot possibly accept.  My schedule is crammed to the brim,” she said reaching for the card. “However, I will hold onto this as a keepsake.”

“Master will be most disappointed, ma’am.   Why, only yesterday he was saying how much he enjoyed renewing your acquaintance.  Perhaps your schedule will permit a quiet dinner with lord Hatake some other time?”

Kinoe watched in silence as the Governor stood stock still when the characters took wing from the card; some splattered themselves against her Manju-netsuke, others twined about her wrist, drawing her hand to the necklace.  “Then again,” she whispered, “I’d hate to miss out on the highlight of the season.  Do tell lord Hatake I will be in attendance, though I will arrive at a later hour.”

 “Thank you, ma’am.”

  **Recherché**

As Iruka and Izumo dig through another box of notes, Kotetsu stands at the kitchen sink, gutting the morning’s catch.  A heavy rap on the front door almost ends in a sliced finger. 

“Keep your britches, I’m coming!” he shouted.  Bloody knife in hand, he stomped over and swung wide the door.  “Who the hell are you?”

 “My name is of no consequence, sir.  I am but a servant from house Hatake,” he said as he bowed.  “My lord directs me extend his greetings and an invitation to a soiree in four days’ time.

“Soiree? What the hell is that?”

“Tetsu, who are you talking to?”

“One of Hatake’s mouthpieces,” he called over his shoulder.  “Says we’re invited to a soiree, but he won’t tell me what the hell that is.”

 “A party huh?”  Izumo said as he walked to the door.  “Well, isn’t that neighborly?  Pray tell sir, how did you know where to find us?”

“Even the woods hold no secrets from my master.”

“Yeah?” Kotetsu snapped, "well the woods aint said nothin’ to me about why he’d want us in his house.”

“Mine is not to question, but to do the will of him who sent me.”

“Zumo, Tetsu? What’s going on over there?”

“We’re on the guest list for a party at Hatake manor,” Izumo said.

“Are you Dr. Umino?” Maito asked as he peered over their heads.

 “Yes, I am.  And who might you be?”

“I’ve been charged by my lord to deliver this into your hands.  Will you accept it, sir?”

Iruka slowly stood, his eyes questioning as he padded to the door.  “Your master and I are hardly friends.  Not sure I understand why he--”

"At the risk of repeating myself, I am but a messenger.  I’m sure my lord will be pleased to answer your questions directly sir.”

Cautiously he slipped between the bridling Kotetsu and the stern-faced servant. The moment he took the card, time stood still. Only Maito could see the characters as they turned into a swirling black mist and head straight for the good doctor’s nostrils.  Iruka sucked in a breath and took a step sideways, stumbling against Izumo.

“You alright there buddy?”

“Yeah,” he said hurriedly, “must have tripped over my own feet.” In an instant, he’d recovered his wits as well as his manners. “Tell your master we graciously accept and will be delighted to attend.”

“You honor my lord, Dr. Umino.  May the remainder of your day be pleasant, sirs.”

Kotetsu stood watching the servant trudge off into the woods while the other men took their seats at the table. He shook his head when he heard Iruka say, “Didn’t I tell you the fates would favor us, Zumo?”

“Hmm, you seemed overeager--”

"Now don't you start--"

“It’s a trap,” Kotetsu said as he closed the door and propped himself against it.  “Thanks for dropping us right in the middle of it, Ruka.”

"Come on, you’re far too cynical for such a young man.  Lady Tsunade has been telling me about this party for weeks; supposed to close out the season with a bang. I hardly think Hatake would go to all that trouble just to capture us.”

“You’re kidding, right?  Why invite people into your home that you know wanna kill ya?  Who does that?”

“Worry not, Tetsu, with a clean shave and some nice clothes, you’ll blend in with the hoi-polloi.  And if you keep your mouth shut … somebody might mistake you for a regular gentleman.”

"Zumo ... you're about three seconds away from that bust in the chops."

“Okay, knock it off you two.  Hatake has been making overtures of peace through the Governor, says he’s anxious to clear the air between us.  He probably just wants to pull me to the side, let me know he’s onto us … make a few thinly veiled threats so we’ll back off--”

 “Again, I ask, of all the people in this town, why the hell would he invite us?”

“Sometimes, you should listen to your own words,” Izumo said.  “Inviting us will prove to the Governor and the Inspector that he’s the bigger man, the one willing to make peace with a known enemy. And should we decline the invite ... well it’s just plain bad manners.  Weren’t you saying we needed to get close to our target?”

“Shut up Zumo.”  Straddling the back of his chair, he plopped down with a sigh. “Fine.  So, that’s it Ruka ...  we're just gonna go?”

“Yes, and stop waving that knife around please; can’t afford another scar across my nose.  We couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity, unless you know of another way to find out where he lives--”

 “No I don’t … damn it!  Still think this whole thing is too convenient.”

“Hatake isn’t going to make a scene with a houseful of people as potential witnesses--”

“Yeah, that’s what you said about the tsuya too.”

“Don’t give me that look, Tetsu.  Two hours ago, you were the main one trying to convince me to meet him, well ... here's our chance.

What’s the matter now, you scared?”

 


	24. Still the Same, Slightly Different

Through every open window gushes the noise of too many men, with too little on their minds and too much time on their hands; their raucous laughter spews forth like a broken sewer main.  _This_ , she thinks, _is a good thing._   When the last two stanzas of a vulgar limerick tickled at her ears, she couldn’t hold back the half smile if she tried.  Up the stone stairs, the click of her heels is silenced by the thundering smack of heavy boots running down the stairs; she slips unnoticed into the entryway.  Standing upon the threshold, breathing in their merriment, her shoulder brushed against the doorframe when she neatly tucked her arms beneath her bosom.  Could have stayed like this for hours, had it not been for the eagle-eyed captain who spotted her.

“This room will come to order,” he yelled.

 “ATTEN - SHUN!”

To a man, all activity ceases; papers skip off the edges of desks, a pair of dice clumsily clattered against the far wall and a playing card floats on the breeze as the chair a man once sat in crashes to the floor.

“Mornin’ ma’am,” Ryota said, scarcely lifting his eyes from the reports spread before him.  “Inspector’s in his office.”

Now is the soft click of kitten heels almost deafening as she walks past the watch commander’s desk with a nod; wending through a crooked blue line of uniforms and faces knocked for six, she accepts the respectful gaze of the men under her ultimate command.  At the mouth of the hallway leading to the Inspector’s office, Ryota’s stern voice momentarily breaks her stride.  

“Alright, show’s over … find something to do with yourselves.”

Standing outside his office, she took a breath and smoothed down her hair.  Reaching for the doorknob, there was slight resistance before it opened of its own accord to reveal a pleasantly surprised Ibiki.

I was just on my way to your office,” he said, angling his body to the left.   She pushed past him with a smile.  “Since you’re here, let me see if I can rustle up some tea for--”

“Heavens no… Shizune brewed up a cup of something she claimed was tea before I left; practically had to cut that stuff with a knife and fork.  Thanks to her, I’ll be awake for days.”

Before he could close the door and cross the room, she was already making herself comfortable in the chair that sat in front of his desk. “You’ll never guess who paid me a visit this morning.”

“Let’s see.  We weren’t dispatched to break up a fight, so I'm guessing it wasn’t lords Danzou and Orochimaru--”

“Don’t be silly,” she told him fanning herself with the little card.  “I received a personal invite to the Hatake gala.  I do hope you’ve something suitable to wear.  Wouldn't do for the Governor to show up dressed to the nines on the arm of a bedraggled looking escort.”

“I was thinking of showing up in my regular attire, now I’ll hafta send a dress uniform to the washerwomen.”  He plopped down in his seat with a smile, pointing to an identical card laying in the middle of his desk. “Got my own invite.”

“You … willing to attend a party?  Okay,” she looked around the room and whispered, “blink once if someone is hiding in the cupboard to club you over the head ... twice if you’re being blackmailed.”

“I’m not that much of an anti-social mope, am I?”

Along with a tight smile as she leaned back, she gave him a look that said, ‘ _Yeah, you are.’_

“Fine, you got me … formal affairs make me break out in a rash; normally hafta drag me by the ear, kickin’ and cussin’ to one of these things--”

“So, what happened this time? Wait a minute … Morino Ibiki, are you blushing? That’s rich.  I can see it now, the steely Chief Inspector and his dainty, high bred dame, skipping carefree through the meadow lands.”

Ibiki regarded her with a grin.  “My face is flushed because you’re turning my stomach. Now, if you’re quite finished, the only reason I’m going is because this party thing is a matter of police business.”

“Naturally.  How silly of me to have forgotten that you’re already married to your job.”

 “I sent a note with Hatake’s man this morning," he said settling back into his chair and making a bridge of his fingers.  "Kinda need his permission to post uniformed men around the estate.”

“Can you beat that?  The rumor mill was right for a change. I’d heard government officials from all Four Nations were expected to attend, but don’t those men usually travel with a security detail of their own?”

He ignored the question in favor of picking at a callous on his index finger.

“I know you Ibiki ... by this time you would’ve already assigned teams and trained them within an inch of their lives.  Why would you wait and ask permission so late in the game?”  

The line of his jaw tightened when he reached for the invitation.  “Protecting the citizens of Konoha ... always been my top priority--”

“You’re full of it! You think Umino is going to sneak in there and try to harm Hatake, don’t you?”

“Umino is psychotic,” he said, running his fingers over the invitation.  “He’s a pathological liar too--”

“No he isn’t.  All he needs is somebody willing to hear him out, someone who can listen to his cockamamie stories objectively.” Folding exasperated hands in her lap, she lowered her voice. “Look, I’ve been meeting with him for some time now … he’s coming around to thinking as a reasonable man should--”

“As I said, all that proves is he’s an accomplished liar.”

The possibility that Iruka suckered her into a web of lies made her brow crinkle.  Shaking her head, she insisted, “He’s a hairsbreadth away from sitting down with me and lord Hatake; he honestly wants to work through the misunderstandings between--”

“A waste of your time and his breath most assuredly.  Umino suffers from delusions … don’t you see that ma’am?”

“What I see, is a man trying to find answers.  Hell,” she snapped throwing up her hands, “he and his friends have even been getting spiritual counsel from the monks, what more proof do you need that he’s--?”

“Yeah,” Ibiki leaned forward to say, “I know all about your secret meetings and their trips to the temple. It’s a smokescreen.  Umino’s anger is too old … it runs too deep, and it chaps my ass that he’s been taking advantage of a soft-hearted woman.” His fist slammed to the desk, “Actions, Lady Tsunade, they tell the true tale of a man.  Those three sat in your office and made a long, loud pronouncement about wanting to kill somebody in the presence of the Governor and her top law enforcement official no less.  Then they skulked off into the woods under the cover of night, like scoundrels.”

“You’ve got men watching them day and night, it’s not as if you don’t know where they are.  Have they done anything suspicious?”

 “Not yet, but they’ve been out there for weeks, plotting god knows what.  I’m telling you ma’am ... this party is the perfect opportunity to--”

“Oh for god’s sake Ibiki,” she said scooting toward the edge of her chair, “your eyes are glazing over and you’re practically salivating.   If you ask me, you’re the one looking and sounding like a crazy man!”

His eyes fell on the invitation, it’s glowing characters giving him strength to speak as he looked up into her eyes. “I don’t care what you say.  I’m going to do everything in my power to ship that lunatic and his crackpot friends back to Looneyville--”

“Even if that means bending the law?”

“I’ll bend it to the point of snapping it in half if need be.  Whatever its gonna take to get him out of the territory, I’ll do gladly.”

Confused and angry, Tsunade slowly rises, her fingers flying for comfort to the netsuke.  “Yes,” she said after a beat, “maybe you are right.  Whatever it takes.”

**Recherché**

“The air inside this home was contaminated this morning … made putrid by the stench of a servant from the Hatake household,” he told those assembled in the study. “From henceforth, let this be understood.  I’ll have the head of any member of the Uchiha who dares fraternize or even lifts their eyes toward anyone who bears the name Hatake.”

“Why, Father?” asked the slight young woman seated by the window.

“How quickly you’ve forgotten our history with the loathsome scions of that house, my child.” With his hands clasped behind his back, he paced along the runner opposite his large family.  “Vermin, that’s what they are.  Smooth talking thieves!”  The veins bulged from his temples as he faced their horrified stares.  “Scum … they attempted dishonor upon our name by stealing the virtue of one of our women already promised in marriage.  They humbled her,” his lip curled into a sneer as he bit off the words, “polluted the purity of our bloodline, planting their filthy seed in a virgin womb.  Forced us to put to death one of our own.  We had none other choice … a mother and innocent babe, their lives taken to cleanse ourselves.  We would not stand by in silence as the wheels of supposed justice slowly turned.  Two brothers of that despicable family dulled the edges of our blades--”

“Please, Father, I beg you … speak no more. It was almost two hundred years ago when this took place,” she said above the audible gasps and whispers of her kin.  “See now what their folly has wrought?  Their family has dwindled down to a sole survivor, while ours continues to flourish.  What political advantages might have been achieved through marriage are now ours by divine right.”

 “Ah, my nebbish elder daughter, just returned from receiving an education abroad,” Fugaku smiled sweetly as he walked toward her.  “Come to me, Suté,” he said with outstretched arms.

She was less than five steps away from his embrace when he drew his arm across his body and delivered a backhanded slap.  His eyes lit up with glee when she staggered into the waiting arms of a sibling.

“Spawn of a wife detested, let _that_ serve as a history lesson for a foolish girl and as a reminder to us all.  No matter how we wish it so … the passage of time can never dull fine honed hatred.” Smoothing a hand through stick straight hair of ebony, he composed himself and continued, “You’d do well to learn from the stepbrother who cradles you.  Itachi, my son of a wife beloved, he dealt with this agent of iniquity correctly. I watched him hold a knife to the throat of that man’s servant and I heard the servant flee for fear of his life.  Violence … it’s the only language the Hatake speak and comprehend.  Now, tell us my son, what did Hatake want?”

“He invited me to the upcoming soiree.  I summarily refused.”

Fugaku drew himself up proudly, cutting his eyes at the young man.  “The hell is wrong with your face?  Have that seen to immediately … it’s unsightly.”

Itachi cast his eyes to the crown of his sniffling half-sister’s head; patting her back gently he whispered,

“As you wish … Father.”

**Recherché**

Having done the master's bidding, he heads northwest, along the twisting paths, through the brambles which hope to ensnare him, toward a dilapidated shack leaning against an ancient sugi tree.  A withered old man dressed in ragged brown robes lifts his cane in greeting as Maito approached. 

“Knew you’d come,” he grinned.  “The animals told me. They can sense your presence better than I can these days … frightens them it does.”

“My master seeks a report.  What news shall I take back to him?”

“Come,” the old man beckoned, “I’ve prepared a special treat--”

“My lord has charged me to take nothing away from this place save your words.”

“Very well, but you must come inside … the trees have ears.” 

Maito closely followed behind him, up the weather-beaten stairs, carefully turning his body sideways to navigate broad, moss covered steps which lead downward into the surprisingly vast belly of the hovel where the shaman dwelt. Sunlight blinded him as it beamed through cracks in the lean-to shed walls, though it didn’t prevent him from seeing the moderately sized chemist’s workshop, a fully functional kitchen and the facilities for bathing as he descended the stairs.  He perched on a smooth tree stump situated before a massive table hewn from stone.

“Before I speak,” the old man husked, “one favor I ask, that mine eyes might behold your beauty.”

It was always this way; the price for information, the shaman desiring to bask in the powerful aura of his beastly form.  Maito shook himself, enjoying the freedom which came by throwing off the prison of his human flesh.  How good it felt when sharp incisors slickly punctured through his gums, when his hands became paws and when the growls from his lips were interpreted as words without having to formulate a language foreign in his own ears.

“Ah … you look exactly like your father.  How I miss him.”

The beast gestured for the old man to take a seat across the table from him.

“Been almost a century since it happened last,” the shaman began.  “The entrails prophesied its certain return.” From a fold in his garment, came a tattered celestial scroll.  Smoothing it over with his hand, milky eyes searched for a particular image.  “There … three nights from now … the dispersed light from all the earth’s sunrises and sunsets will fall across the face of the moon, bathing it in the color of blood. You understand what this means, don’t you?”

Maito nodded.

“The power of your master will increase tenfold each night as it draws near.  Each night this month, the spirits of the Hatake have torn me from my rest … they call to me.   Inside ossuary chests of ivory, the bones of the Hatake, quake and rattle crying out to their only living descendant for swift redress.  I beg of you Maito … prevent him from veering off the path, for with great power, there is great vulnerability. There is one who lurks in the thickets, a snake, seeking to attenuate the wolf.”

“Worry not. Though it may bruise his paw, the head of the snake will be crushed under my master’s foot.”

“The entrails also shew forth an omen most fearful.  Glowing stones, hidden in hollowed trees, snares ripe to spring are bound and shining in the brooks … stumbling blocks--”

“These snares … you will direct me to them.”

“No my son … I cannot.  They represent profound harm to beings such as yourself and the master.  But a mortal, I will surely guide.”

“Then shall I dispatch one to destroy them.”  Maito abruptly stood, his human form and clothing reappearing as he walked toward the hovel’s entrance; catching hold of a bloody burlap sack, he flung it over his shoulder.   “Your pay still squirms.”

Out into the sunlight, once more he heads deeper into the woods to collect other of the Master’s invited guests.

**Recherché**

The smell of his pipe tobacco walked in before he did.  “Top of the morning to ya, Ryota.”

“You’re obnoxiously chipper Genma …  that can only mean you gotta houseful of the dearly departed.”

“Nah, dead around my place … get it?”

“I’m doubled over with laughter on the inside.  State your business, please.”

“Well, I just got in a shipment from England; fresh off the boat … latest medical journals and other science stuff, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Alright, now that you’ve insulted my intelligence, what else can I do for ya?”

Genma rubbed at his neck when he leaned down. “Might need a little help with this stuff.”

“Longshoremen open crates, constables do not.  So, unless your shipment contains the report Ibiki’s been looking for, feel free to move along.”

“Sure thing. That slicked up lieutenant, you know … mounted patrolman, brown hair, big smile … he workin’ today?”

Ryota scooted his chair back to flip through the duty roster behind his desk.  “He should be coming in from patrol shortly. You need him why?”

“That package from London … filled with twenty bottles of brand new embalming compounds; ordered ‘em over a month ago” he grinned.  “Damned if they didn't print the instructions in English.”

“Yes, damn them.   I’ll send the lieutenant round after he checks in.  Oh, and Genma, I’m warning you.  Wait until he arrives before you go mucking about with those things.  That’s all I need today, some impatient jackass blowing up something.”

“Heh, you only make that mistake once, am I right?  Shame though … aint got nary a body to test the effectiveness of--”

“Well don’t look at me when you say that undertaker--”  

“Oh … heya Inspector!”

“Coroner Shiranui, I’ve no time for idle chitchat,” he snapped.

Oblivious to Ibiki’s temperament, Genma proceeded to blather on.  “Just tellin’ Ryota about a package from England.  Make my job a lot easier providing I figure out how to use the stuff.  You’re lookin’ a little peaked Inspector; eating well, getting enough rest?  You should be, I mean, been awful quiet round here lately, envoys behaving themselves, no drunken brawls, no violent crimes--”

“It's almost been too quiet … makes me very nervous.” Suddenly Ibiki was standing inches from the stunned Coroner.  Looking down at him, Ibiki whispered, “I promise, you won’t like me very much when I get nervous, Genma.”

“Yeah … um, right,” he said taking a step backward, “gotcha.  Think I’ll just uh, wait in my shop for your man--”

“Good idea. 

Ryota … a word,” Ibiki said as he turned away from them. “Now, damn it!”

He rounded the corner of his desk quickly, pushing the stunned mortician toward the door, but by then, the Inspector was halfway across the room.  He had to assume a light jog to catch up with his boss. “Whoa … slow down, will ya?"   Ibiki stepped to the side as the other man wheezed. “Not as young as I used to be ... what’s your hurry?”

“Two things.  I’m heading to the magistrate’s office now and then ... to Hatake manor.  While I’m gone, you’re going to assemble three teams of ten men each.  Ten from mounted patrol and ten from foot patrol.  Aoba and Raidou will lead a team of eight.”

“What’s the job, when do they report and to whom?”

“Twenty will monitor the grounds of Hatake’s estate, the others will work undercover inside the house on the night of the soiree.  Have them report to me, here, at four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Alrighty, anything else they should know?”

“You’ll provide the teams with descriptions of Umino and his friends.  I want those three arrested on sight.  Should they be stupid enough to resist, I’m authorizing the use of force.”

“What are we gonna charge ‘em with?”  

“That’s what me and the magistrate are gonna figure out.”

Cold, dead eyes bored into his when he gripped Ibiki by wrist. “You serious?  Those young men haven’t done anything to merit arrest.”

“Hands off Watch Commander Takenaka!  If you think it too much trouble to execute a direct order, I’ll hafta find somebody else for your position.”

Ryota and those assembled, stood dumbfounded as Ibiki stormed toward his office; not long after, the station house cleared out in the snap of two fingers.  Still, Ryota stood in place, betrayed and bewildered when the Inspector brushed past him the second time.  Only when the door to the constabulary slammed closed did he come to his senses.  And as he walked back to his desk, he thought, 

_This is the Governor’s dirty work ... it's the only reasonable explanation.   Why would she make him do something like this?_

**Recherché**

As the morning sun climbed higher, there came the rap of a cane against the front door of Kokucho manor.  “Greetings, lord Danzou; my master is expecting you.  He’s in the conservatory … shall I accompany you, sir?”

"Won't be necessary, Kabuto.  I know the way."

Danzou took his time as thoughts of betrayal and grievances long past, flooded his mind with each step as he drew closer to music room.  _This corridor ... it's like an oven.  Must be coming down with something.  Yes, that's it ...  a fever.  I'll ask after some ginger tea once I get there._

The strains of a violin, its chords, melancholy wrapped around his body as he played.  Halted mid tune, Orochimaru stilled the bow, laying down the instrument upon its resting place, he walked toward the bay of the windows overlooking the garden.  _For the better part of twenty years have I known him, yet this very morning, he is as a stranger to me.  Each time his cane strikes the floor anger seethes in my bones.  What hell is this?_

“Impressively late for our weekly game of Shogi, lord Danzou,” he said turning at the sound of the door opening.  “Savor these moments while you can, for today is your defeat certain.”

“Hah!  Chance of that would be a fine thing.  Nevertheless, you’ll find I am as always, a gracious victor.  Why, I’ve already decided to let you tag along with me to the most ostentatious social event of the season.”

“Did you now?” Orochimaru said as he strode over the gaming table.  “Your generosity knows no bounds, yet,” he picked up the card Kinoe delivered, “I won’t need your charity in this instance either.” 

“I see.  You’ve received an invitation as well.  Splendid.  I was just thinking … this gathering may prove itself worth our time.  It behooves us to strike an alliance with Hatake and those from the Four Nations, we stand to make an extortionate amount of money from them and the West.”

“Careful lord Danzou, your greed is rearing its ugly head; always admired that about you,” he laughed as his friend sat opposite him.  “Our interests in the silk and wool trade alone will certainly allow one of us to buy our way into the seat of power over the territory.  And if we can force that Senju woman to levy higher taxes on Konoha’s exported goods, we will have more money than the gods.”

“Did I hear you correctly?  I thought you said, ‘allow _one_ of us to buy our way into the seat of power’; whom did you mean?”

“Why should such a thing matter between two old friends?  Lady Tsunade will have to nominate one of us as the next Governor, the other will serve as his executive consultant.  Either way, we win.”

“Yes … how I do enjoy winning.” _But before I let you assume a position meant for me,_ he thought, _your blood, and that of your prissy little manservant,_ _will drip from my sword and taint the earth._

“Tea?”

“Please … it smells enchanting.”

“A new blend … Kabuto insisted on ordering from London. Now, then the board is set.  I’ll even you move first this time.”

With a crooked smile did Orochimaru watch the other man drag his pawn one space.  _‘Executive consultant’, yes, comfort yourself into the grave with that idea,_ he thought.   _As if I’d ever bow my knee to you. I’ll have your head stuffed and mounted above my desk as a warning to any who’d dare cross the new head of the territory_.   “To victory,” he said raising his cup and saluting his soon to be deceased friend.

 “Here’s to us and a long, profitable future.”

 

  **Recherché**

“Iruka … what are you doing?”

“I’m taking notes, what does it look like?”

 “Hmm,” he mumbled holding back a laugh, “well, you seem a little … distracted.”

“Far as I can tell, you’re the only distraction in the room.”

"You know, Tetsu isn’t going to stay angry with you forever, he’ll be back.”

“I’m aware of that, Zumo.”

 “Not distracted, huh?” He reached over and rattled the pen against Iruka’s tea cup.  “You’ve been trying to write with your spoon for the last few minutes."

“Damn,” he muttered fishing his pen from the cup, “that’s the second one this week.”  Pushing the books aside, Iruka stretched his arms above his head letting them collapse at his sides. “Been thinking about this the past few days … Father’s notes.  What if can’t kill Hatake … would that be such a bad thing?”

“I’m thinking the answer to that is … yes?”

“All this time, my focus was on avenging Father’s death and now … I don’t know how I feel.”

“Well, this is your first attempted murder after all … hesitancy is to be expected.”

“Don’t do that, I’m serious.”  He leaned forward, elbows on the table, entwined fingers supporting his chin.  “What if everything I thought I knew is wrong?  I mean, what if the ramblings of a deranged mind lead me to kill an innocent man?”

“Innocent? Hatake? The hell Iruka … you were standing right there the night Sakumo was killed, the same night that creature jumped through the study window.  You saw it!”

“I know I did, but … it’s just--”

“The idea of killing someone or  _something,_ doesn’t sit right with you.  Trust me, I understand.  I’m not comfortable with that either, so I try not to dwell on it.   Still, we both know if we don’t do it, that _thing_ is going to keep on killing--” 

“Zumo," he whispered cradling his head in his hands.  “I’m … afraid. I keep having nightmares about facing Hatake and not being able to do him in.  What if it’s true … what if I really can’t?”

“And what if a frog had wings, he wouldn’t bump his butt when he jumps, would he?  But the frog has learned not to bump his butt.” 

“What?”

Izumo patted him on the shoulder, “For a minute, don’t listen to me as a relative or even as a friend; listen to me as a doctor. You haven’t slept well since we got here, that affects your ability to think clearly.  You refuse to eat properly and you haven’t been maintaining an adequate fluid level per day; even moderate dehydration, slows judgment, makes you second guess yourself or fret about things that haven’t happened.  We’ve been going through all this stuff, meeting with the monks, gathering information and you've been trying to keep your stories straight.  You’ve got eleven million things weighing on your shoulders, that makes you anxious and ill tempered.”

“You trying to say I’m a basket case?”

“You will be if you if you maintain this pace.  So, here’s what we’re going to do.  First, let’s box up these notes and get them out of our sight, just for today.  Then, we're going to get out of this cabin, take a little exercise and get some sun.  I’ll gather some herbs for a sleeping draught while we’re out in the woods and tonight, you’re going to eat well even if I that means I hafta cram the food down your throat.  Later, after dinner and a few glasses of wine, you’re gonna take a warm bath and get a good night’s sleep.  Sound like a plan?”

Iruka pushed away from the table clapping Izumo on the shoulder when he stood. “Some friend you are.  How long were you going to sit there, laughing at me while I tried to take notes with a teaspoon?”

“I'm a wonderful friend, thank you and you have to admit ... it was pretty funny."

"Now I'm your laughingstock … wonderful."

  "Be grateful, buddy; I haven’t prepared the bill for my services yet.  And while you're shopping at the indebted store, thank your lucky stars I’m not as devious as you; if I ever told Tetsu about this … you’d never live it down.”

 

Notes:

Psychotic: a person who has lost touch with reality.

Nebbish:  a pitifully ineffectual, luckless and timid person.

Attenuate:  to lessen the force or magnitude of.

Suté: “forsaken foundling.”  This name remained common until the end of the 19th century. It was granted via an old custom. If a family had several children die in succession shortly after birth, the next child born (a girl, preferably) had to be exposed. The babe was carried by a servant to a lonely place in the fields and left there. Then a peasant, or other person, hired for the occasion appears pretends to find the babe, and carries it back to the parental home. It was desirable that the one who ‘finds’ the babe be no kin to the family.   The child is then received and named "Suté."  It was supposed that this method of recovery would thwart the unseen influences which caused the deaths of the other children.


	25. Recherche: Patience Rewards One

In a warehouse near the wharf, longshoremen winch up the last four crates and haphazardly deposit them into the bed of a wagon. As they walk away, unblinking eyes peer through the slats, surveying what they could of their surroundings.  From a ruck in his garments the stowaway retrieves a small scroll, carefully unfurling it across his stomach.

“It will be tomorrow morning before I can move freely,” he whispers.

“Go now my friends.”

**Recherché**

Hours wasted on a victory so hollow it echoed in his soul.

Precisely three and a half days to execute an arrest warrant

obtained by bribery and threats.

In his hand, a piece of paper light as a feather.  The trumped-up charges hidden within a labyrinth of legalese … the life and reputation of an innocent man soon to be ruined, made its weight as a cinder block. _It’s enough to_ _hold ‘em till he Advisory Council can sign deportation orders,_ he thought passing through the halls of the magistrate’s office _._   _Matter of time before he starts flapping his gums, making public this ridiculous crusade.  I don’t understand.  My head and gut are telling me this is the right way, yet I’m ill at ease._

Once outside in the fresh air, contrary winds refused to let him light the cigar he’d earlier stashed away.  Instead he ground it between his teeth chomping down on its end and sucking out as much nicotine as he could.   

_If this full moon passes without another murder, it will prove Umino the nutcase I said he was._

_But if we wind up with another victim, I'm back to square one._   _Damn it!_

**Recherché**

Leaving the constabulary, she'd walked home in a daze.  On familiar turf, her thoughts clear as she hurries to the cellar, cutting through veils of cobwebs to reach the large dust covered cedar chests.

She tore through their contents like a woman possessed.

Prize found, she collected herself and headed out the door for the short jaunt back to her workaday world. She looked a fright and knew it, politely ignoring the confused stares of the citizenry as wove her way through the crowded streets. The cool, sweet scented air of the Administrative complex calmed her; refusing conversation with the staffers, she rushed to her private office.  Flinging open the door, she was greeted with a sight that took her breath away.  Straight ahead, in the center of a tidy desk was an elegant vase filled with fresh cut yellow roses.   To her left at the conference table, a startled Shizune turned in her seat.

“I didn't expect you back so soon, ma’am. The other excerpts are on your desk, just finished the last one.”

 _Yes,it was all worth it,_ Tsunade thought as she leaned against the door _._

“If you don't need me for anything else here, ma’am," she said clearing off the table, "I’ll go lay out your clothes and draw a bath for you.”

"Now that you mention it, there is something I need, "Tsunade sly said as she walked toward the table. " My intended escort for the party of the season, will be otherwise engaged that evening--”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I'm certain we can find someone suitable, ma’am.  I’ll tend to it immediately.”

“No need, I already have the perfect person in my line of sight and by that, I mean, you Shizune.”

 A rapid blush spread over her assistant’s cheeks as she hid a smile behind her hand, “Surely you jest ma’am.  I wouldn’t know how to comport myself at one of those things, that's why I never accompany you.  I've no idea what to discuss with those people--”

"Nonsense, you deal with nobility and dignitaries daily and quite well--"

"But Lady Tsunade, a fancy party is a completely different setting.   I'll be out of my depth--"

"Then dig deeper.  All you need do is smile pretty, say very little and dance the night away.  You'll be the toast of the party, an elegant woman of mystery."

"I appreciate the invitation, really I do ma’am, but there's little time to have a formal kimono made and I've no idea what to do with my hair--"

"My hairdresser loves a challenge … you'll be her guinea pig and crowning achievement.  As for a kimono … here," she said sliding the package across the table.  "My grandmother commissioned this for my coming of age ceremony.  Go on, open it."

"A furisode made for nobility," she mumbled as nervous fingers skip over delicate paper wrappings, "I couldn't possibly--"

"You will accept it," insisted Tsunade as she eased into the chair opposite her assistant.  "It's too late to pass this on to a daughter I haven't got.  That kimono hasn't seen the light of day in years ...shame to let it disintegrate inside a cedar chest.  Oh, for heaven sakes, unwrap the damn thing!"

"Goodness ma'am …  it's beautiful.”

“Naturally ... my grandmother was a woman with excellent taste.  But, the delicate peach and yellow colors never would’ve looked right on me," she said with a smile.  "Now I envy you, Shizune.  See how well it complements your skin tone?  It would have made me look sickly, but on you its gorgeous.”

“Why didn’t you ever wear it, ma’am?”

“The forces of nature took over," she gestured to her ample bosom, " didn't have a choice in the matter.  Two weeks before it was finished, I uh, started blossoming.  My dressers had a hell of a time to be sure.  They attempted using binders, but those only constricted my breathing ... kept fainting and falling over before I could try the damn thing on.”  

They shared a laugh and then Shizune suddenly bowed her head to the table.  “I don’t think I have the words to thank you for this, ma’am--”

“Good, that means you won’t interrupt me.  I've got a situation … not sure you can help me with this one though."  Leaning back in her seat, she folded her hands in her lap and said, "I don’t know what came over me.  Let myself get talked into something I don’t agree with--" 

"Ma’am you can’t back out now, members of the Council and the heads of every clan will be--”

"No, this has to do with Ibiki, not that dreadful party tonight.   I’m not sure if he’s bored or just needs to vent his frustrations at the cathouse, but he’s developed this vendetta against Dr. Umino."

“Well, the Inspector never did suffer fools--”

 “Dr. Umino is no fool, Shizune.  And as strange as everything he told us was, I know he spoke the truth.”

"Ma'am," she said quietly as she shifted in her seat, “you really believe there are such things as monsters and evil spirits?”

“I've lived long enough to know there are things in this world logic, science or even religion can’t explain. When foreigners like that damned Commodore Perry and his warships forced this great land to open her borders to the West, our own people stood and cried out in the streets.  'We must ' _take the_ _initiative,_ they shouted _, 'for we can dominate, but if we do not, we will be dominated.’ 1  _Now the West is twisting our arms to trade pieces of our identity and heritage for the sake of modernity and money.  As the first of the Five Great Nations to entertain talks of trade, Konoha has violated the will of our ancestors; for that, I believe we now suffer the consequences of a curse."

"My mother says the same thing, milady."

"No way round it," she said when she stood.  "As another full moon will be upon us shortly, I'll have to pay a visit to the temple, atone for our sins--” 

“Now? But Lady Tsunade … your appointment--”

"I’m not going right this minute, Shizune … first, I need to find Ibiki before he does something stupid.”

**Recherché**

At the sound of thundering hooves, he looked up; Mayonaka's mane fluttered the wind as he galloped beside another constable and his mount.  _Crap!  This can't be good._ Drawing to a halt before him, Saki panted, “Civilian patrols just turned in a report ... watch commander thought you'd wanna get in on this.”

“What now?”

 “The forest ...more bones,  a lot of ‘em.  Already notified the Coroner, he's readying a wagon.”

Looking to the hills Ibiki thought, _By the time we get done up there, it'll be early evening.  P_ _aperwork will take another coupla hours once I get back. Maybe Hatake will send a runner and I won’t hafta pay him a visit after all._

He was all for leaving Genma behind and probably would have, but as he put one foot into the stirrup and threw his other leg over, the Governor was exiting the Administrative complex.

“Inspector!”

“Ma’am?”

“Hold on a minute.  We need to talk. This thing with Dr. Umino, it’s--”

“Sorry, milady … we’ve an urgent matter--”

“I’ll wait for the Coroner sir ... ma’am,” Sakai said as he bowed his head to the Governor.  “We’ll catch you up.”

“Ibiki, what’s going on?”

“Active crime scene in the woods,” he leaned down to whisper, “more bones.”

“Oh my god … and just when things were going so well.  Brief me first thing in the morning.”  She grabbed at Mayonaka’s reins and looked Ibiki in the eye.  “Promise me, you’ll do nothing to Dr. Umino until then.”

“You have my word,” was the lie he told while sliding the warrant inside his breast pocket.  “I will do nothing further, ma'am.”

**Recherché**

As sun sets on the first evening of the fourth week, Iruka and friends relax around the table in their cabin; as grinning translators try her patience, Lady Tsunade holds back on her alcohol consumption and Ibiki, now returned from the scene, is up to his eyeballs in paperwork.

“Last one, Inspector.”

“Ryota … come in, sit down.  You been avoiding me since I got back.  Can’t say I blame you.”

“You get strange when the town is quiet for too long,” he said when he plopped down in the chair before the desk. “Message received.”

“No,” he said laying down his pen, “there was no excuse for raising my voice to you in front of the men--”

“Yeah, well putting the fear of Morino in ‘em … always a good thing.  Figured out what to do with Umino yet?”

“Got a warrant in my pocket,” he said with a sigh. 

“You think by holding them, we won’t have a ninth victim?”

“Kinda hope so.”

“I don't know if this is the right course of action, Ibiki.   Umino might be a help to us if we work with him versus throwing him in the slammer.  But, if you insist on doing it, we can always drop the charges if they prove their claims.”

“No way in hell they can prove anything, Ryota. 

Either way it goes, they’ll be outta my hair and the territory in a week, tops.”

**Recherché**

The gentle rolling motion of the ox cart, he’d gotten used to now; might have lulled him to sleep if they hadn’t hit a dip in the road.  He let out a tiny yelp when his head bumped against the crate.

“You hear something?”

“Probably my stomach growling,” laughed the driver of the cart.  “Aint ate nothing since this morning.”

“Same here, Daisuke.  Been wicked busy, what with the factories taking on extra workers.  I try to take it in stride though ... this trade thing is gonna make us all rich.”

“Pull your head outta your ass, Satoshi.   Little guys like us aint gonna see much difference in pay.  They'll work us to death for next to nothing and we'll be glad to lap up the crumbs they throw us.  Tell ya what, this is the last delivery of the night; silk farm’s up ahead. I say we leave this stuff in the barn, slip the invoice under the door and beat feet.”

“Sounds good to me.”

 _So that’s where we’re headed,_ thought the stowaway.  The wagon picked up the pace, jostling him about for another ten minutes or so.  They stopped with a screech and suddenly his accommodation shifted.  Unceremoniously dumped to the ground, he waited until they left before cutting a small square in the crate's side.  Squeezing himself through it with a grunt, he slowly stood; sneaking out of the barn, he ran toward the safety of the nearby woods.  Once certain he hadn't been seen, the young man whistled for the scouts.

 In an instant, four small black forms silently speed through the tall grasses. 

Under the light of the moon, these rodent like creatures surround the scroll which lay on the ground before the young man.

“Located them already have you? 

What’s that?  At least a two-day journey, a wolf like being on the prowl and the police? 

Hmm … best I stay put until all the reports come back from your brothers.”

 

Notes:

1 Quote from Shimazu Nariakira, a Japanese feudal lord of the Edo period.  He was renowned as an intelligent and wise ruler who was keenly interested in Western learning and technology.

 Furisode: "swinging sleeves."  A kimono worn by young unmarried women; usually decorated with a color pattern that fully covers the entire garment.  The longer the sleeves, the more formal the garment.

Daisuke: “great helper.”

Satoshi: "clear thinking; quick witted.”

 


	26. Recherche: Patience Rewards Two

**WARNING:  Descriptions of flesh eating and non con.**

* * *

 

 

At Hatake manor …

 his presence pervasive in this wing of the house; the lingering scent in the air bespoke his power, left purposely as a warning. The early arrival meant he’d be in for a time of scrutiny, thus he prepared himself.  This last duty, self-imposed and unnecessarily tedious, ate up more time than expected. And though it would never be as crisp as that other servant’s, it would suffice his purposes. Pleased with himself, he walked quickly from his quarters. Only a few minutes remained in which to clean the hearth, build a fire and set out master’s brandy.  But as he approached the salon he could tell … someone had beaten him to it.

Standing in the center of the room, his eyes closed, he took a deep breath, filtering out the scents still trapped inside these four walls.  Master was already there, seated in his usual chair and sipping at a brandy. _Damn it!_

He strode over quietly.  Bowing before his lord, he laid the packet on the table between the chairs and made himself comfortable at master’s right hand. 

“Running behind, are we?"

"Pardon my lord."

"And what have we here?” The parchment crinkled when master gathered it up. "Last time I saw one of these, the Buddha was in knee britches. Were you hoping to impress lord Jiraiya?”

Maito hung his head mumbling, “Yes my lord.”

“Ah … that explains why you so readily humbled yourself at my feet.”

“Our lord Jiraiya was a harsh taskmaster, he demanded I remember my place and show reverence at all times.”

“Humph, well that was one lesson you haven't forgotten.  Alas, I’ve been a wretchedly lenient master, treating you as a confidant rather than a servant, I corrupted all your years of strict training.”

“Never let it be said my lord. The fault is mine … I allowed myself to grow too familiar.”

“You never cease to amuse me Maito, but as I have no intention of continuing conversation with the back of your head, you will rise and take your usual seat.  Worry not, Jiraiya isn’t here to shake his finger at either of us.”

 “Thank you, my lord.”

“I’m certain he may call upon you at some point, but I doubt we’ll see much of him until the night of the gala. He came bearing a gift most precious; the second ingredient.  After he spoke with me briefly, he dropped his bag in my father’s bedchambers and headed straight for the tertiary ritual grounds.”

“What good news master, all that remains is collection of the sacrifice.”

“Tis true, that time draws nearer.  Now then,” he said squinting at the parchment, “I see here the constables made quite a mess out there.”

“I will secure the area at once, my lord--”

“No doubt Jiraiya has already erected a kekkai around the sacred grounds to throw the constables into confusion and erase the memory of its location from their minds. Here now," he said uncorking the decanter, "let us drink a toast.  The workmen packed up their belongings for the final time less than two hours ago; my home shall enjoy rest for a few days and all else is going according to plan.”

Having flung the parchment into the fire, they watch it burn as the mantle clock ticks away the quiet minutes while Master and servant sit absorbed in their thoughts.

“So, how fares my chosen?”

“Dejected, my lord …her heart is estranged from her family; she sits alone in her room, pining for your call.”

“And what of the other one?”

“Alas, his mind and spirit remain strong, but this very night will his dreams begin eating away his confidence.”

“Excellent.  Konoha is already mine and with Umino’s assistance, I shall rule supreme over the Five Great Nations.”

Running sweaty palms over cloth covered thighs, Maito turned to the master saying, “My lord … may I speak freely?”

“Drink first … then speak.”

He reached for the snifter, nodded his thanks and drained it in one greedy gulp. And as he slowly lowered the glass to the table he said, “The shaman spoke of a snake in the thicket who will silently rise up to attenuate the wolf.”

“Maito, what need have I of a wife to pace the floors and wring her hands in worry, when I have you? Even as we speak, the Yasha are making replicas of the amulets described by our agents; the morrow’s dawn will see them returned to their places of secret.  We have people working for us on the inside of the temple … they will take care of the remaining talismans.”

“Yes my lord, however, Umino still holds several in his possession.”

“May he enjoy his presumed triumph,” he said pouring another glass for his servant.  “I will leave the retrieval of those worthless trinkets to my special guests. I trust Kinoe is acclimating them."

"Last I saw, they'd been bathed and placed in the holding cells, while Kinoe attempted to teach them something called etiquette."

"There you see, fret not Maito.  The wolf has sinews of iron, able to withstand the jaws of an enfeebled snake, strong enough to snap the fangs off any serpent foolish enough to strike.” 

“It is as you say, my lord.”

“You’ve done well, and now shall you be at liberty.  Six hours I grant you … go, eat your fill.”

The collar slipped from his neck as he scrambled from the chair and knelt before his master.  “You are most gracious, my lord.”

“No Maito, I am wise. These next days are crucial … I cannot allow hunger’s pangs to drive you to distraction.”

**Recherché**

Through the woods, he struggled to maintain his human form as the scent of his prey wafted about him.  There he stood, alone, relieving himself outside a tavern near the docks.  Maito crushed a fallen branch beneath his boot as he approached him.

“Hey!” the other man slurred, “don’t I know you?  Yeah … finished work at your house today.  Lemme tell ya pal, it was a real bitch.  You come to buy us drinks have ya?”

“No, Hiroaki … but this is a celebration nonetheless, a reward, just for you.   I’d like to have you for dinner,” he said with a smile.

“Okay by me,” he said staggering closer to where Maito stood.  “Need something to soak up the rotgut in my stomach anyway.”

“It’s settled then.  I know of an out of the way eatery, just beyond the mills.  They serve the most unusual delicacies … pickled liver for example, it's quite tasty.”

“Begging your pardon … that sounds disgusting, none for me thanks.”

“Well, there are countless tidbits for every appetite at this diner.   I’m sure we’ll find something that will go right up your alley.”

“Lead on then.”

After they’d walked for a while, Hiroaki grabbed him by the elbow.  “Hey, uh mister … I know I'm a little tipsy, but I think we’re going in the wrong direction.  The mills," he pointed drunkenly, "they're are over that way.”

“No, I assure you we’re on the correct path, it’s just a little further.”

“Look pal, I know these woods like the back of my hand and I'm telling ya, if we keep going, we’re gonna wind up in the middle of the woods.”

“Precisely.  No one will hear your screams out there.”

"Eh?  What’s there to scream about?"  He turned to see Maito’s eyes, yellow with black slits. “What the … what the hell are you?”

“A wolf, Hiroaki … a very hungry wolf.”

The other man sobers quickly and takes off on a stumbling run into the forest; Maito allows him the head start, grinning as he watches him trip and fall several times.  But out there in the woods, lupine howls ring about him, boxing him in and forcing him toward a clearing as he frantically searches for a way out.   

“Welcome to my private diner,” Maito said as he stood behind him. “And would you look at this, my meal is presented hot and sweaty, just the way I like it.”

Hiroaki turned at the voice.  “The foreman put you up to this didn’t he? I cussed him out in the tavern and now he’s sent you to frighten me.  Alright, take off that stupid mask, you’ve had your fun.  I pissed my pants too ... ya happy now?"

“Not just yet,” he said flinging the hapless man against the spiny bark of a tree near the weald; with a swipe of his powerful claws, Hiroaki's shirt is ripped from his body.

“Hey now, you're taking the joke too far.  Stay back!”

“Afraid I couldn’t stay away if I tried. The smell of your corpulence and the sound of the blood rushing in your veins beckons me closer.” Another swipe of his paws tears Hiroaki’s pants to shreds.

“Should have known, you were standing there, watching me piss … you’re some kinda freak aren't ya?"

Maito clucked his tongue and shook his head.  “Insulting the one who holds you captive,” he said as he transformed before the frightened eyes of his prey.  “Extremely poor choice, old man.” 

Roughly turned about and slammed face first into the tree, searing pain burns through his bowels as something hot, barbed and harder than steel forces itself inside his body, ripping him apart.  “It is unwise to struggle.  You cannot escape me and the pain will not lessen,” Maito husked against his ear.  “You will bear it, mayhaps it will be over soon."

Tears ran down his cheeks as the beast rutted into him.  He prayed that he might lose consciousness, that this memory would not follow him to hell, to no avail.  Desperate, he screamed louder, hoping someone might come to his rescue.  In return, it seemed the howls which drove him to this place were coming closer.

At last, a grunt of completion sounded behind him and the beast flung him to the center of the clearing.

“Now that I've worked up an appetite,” Maito grinned as he stood over him, “I think I’ll start with something small and chewy.”  He bent down and ripped Hiroaki’s penis from its root.  “Yes, this should do nicely. And these” he said, yanking at his testes, “these will provide an interesting texture.”

Popping the morsels into his mouth, the bleeding man watched tiny trails of blood gush out and drip along the maws of the beast. After swallowing down the tasty treats, he said, “Why, Hiroaki, providing a fountain of red sauce for my entrée of ribs,” laughing now, Maito’s paw tore through his chest, “how thoughtful.”  

The last sounds Hiroaki hears as he begins his descent into eternal flames, was the cracking of bones, the tearing of muscle and cartilage to suck out the marrow; the last sight Hiroaki sees is of several monsters gathered about him, pieces of his flesh dangling from their sharpened teeth.


	27. Recherche: Past Imperfect

Dawn ... **three days** before the event of the season.

No sooner than the master of the manor retired to his chambers, the summons, not unexpected, went forth.  Disconcertment frustrates every movement as he adjusts his clothing, it punctuates every footfall when he hurriedly leaves his quarters.  The east wing from whence he came slowly brightens as the sun begins her ascent; crossing the span above the foyer, hesitantly does he stand on the border of darkness that is the west wing.

 _No_ , he thought _, couldn’t be that.  I had master’s permission, returned before the set time and left nothing behind._

Down the hall and to the right he sees the door to lord Sakumo’s bedchamber slightly ajar.

“You wished to see me lord Jiraiya?” he called peering around the room.

“In the library,” responded a pleasant baritone voice. “Come through.”

Three steps inside, he paused to slick down his hair; the heels of his hands smoothing down his clothing once more.  To his left, the door leading to the library was cracked open a mite; a deep breath did nothing to calm him as he passed through to the other room.  Lambent illumination of fifty candles bathes this massive space in yellow orange light, and there, standing before a floor to ceiling bookcase the broad back of the fabled albino wolf presents itself.  Spiky waist length hair gathered in a low tail sweeps around the man as he turns. Dark grey eyes smile as he speaks; the red fang-like marks etched into the skin under them, had grown in length since Maito saw him last.

“You’re looking well. Please,” he gestured broadly to the lone chair in the center of the room, “have a seat.”  

Maito kept his eyes on the tall, huskily built, fair skinned man as he carefully replaced the book he’d been thumbing through.

“My, my ... how old are you now son?”

Knowing this might be a trick question, he considered for long moments before answering.   “I am nigh unto three hundred and twenty years lord Jiraiya.”

The other man chuckled softly, “Still a pup then.  And when was the last time you paid respects to the Hatake ancestors?”

Hands on his knees, Maito leaned forward saying, “I am shamed my lord.  Often time, other duties prevent me from joining the master as he kowtows to them.  For the last fifty years, master has attended upon this duty alone.” He sensed the scowl on Jiraiya's lips as he bowed lower. “I see," he heard him say. "That explains everything. Maito, look at me."

Expecting a well-deserved slap across the face, the seated man lifted himself slowly to see Jiraiya still standing by the bookcase.

"When lord Kakashi became head of clan Hatake, his duties and responsibilities increased fivefold.  Why haven’t yours?”

The weight of Jiraiya’s critical eye left him fumbling for an answer suitable.  “I … I do not understand the question, my lord.”

"After speaking with the master yesterday afternoon, I came here, to the fore father's place of rest.  Tell me young one,” he said slowly walking to the place Maito sat, “what are your first considerations as a bond servant?”

He promised himself not to flinch or cry out if buffeted.  “My first considerations are the health and well-being of my master, sir.”

“When you were servant to the heir,” he said stepping to Maito’s left side, “that would have been the correct response.”  Walking behind the wary man, Jiraiya continued, “But now are you the right hand to the current lord Hatake.  More than just catering to his whims or carrying out his orders, you are to protect your master from all who wish him harm.  You’ve done well in that respect, till now.”  A meaty hand alighted on a quivering shoulder.  “If I’m correct in my thinking, you’ve failed to keep safe your master from an enemy most dangerous … one closer than the skin which covers him.”

“A foe who can defy my senses of sight and smell … my lord, how can I be expected to defend against something like that?”

“Do you fear your master, Maito?”

“I would be a fool not to sir.”

“This fear … it binds you too close to see and makes you too weak to speak.  Come with me.”

He rose and followed Jiraiya a few steps away to the bookcase, knowing full well what lay behind it; a latch hidden under one of the shelves loudly engaged, a secret passageway opened revealing an alcove where rows of carved ivory ossuaries sat.  

“From the moment your master was born,” Jiraiya said, “his father feared for his life.  I assume you know of the ritual?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“When the blood of the sacrifice drips from the lips of his parents, the skin of the babe is supposed to take on a different hue.  The deeper that coloring is, denotes the level of power granted by the spirits of the family.  That didn’t happen with lord Kakashi ... instead, his frail body went still, becoming the same color as the marble altar upon which he lay.  Sakumo knew he'd defied the rules for the sake of the woman he loved by bringing forth offspring that had human blood nourishing it from the moment of conception. Love for this human bent him prostrate; with great weeping and gnashing of teeth, that proud man begged the spirits to spare his son for the sake of its mother.   His plea, they heard, his request, they did grant … with a condition.  If the child did not show an increase in power by the end of his first year, the life they graciously permitted would be extinguished without question.  Seeking counsel from the shaman in the woods, Sakumo broke the seal on Hatake Kama's remains.  With every month that came, he faithfully sprinkled tiny portions of those bones on his child's tongue to mix with his feedings of blood.  He and I both hoped Kama's strength would be imparted to the child."

“And it was so.  My lord’s power knows no equal.”

“True … but in addition to his strength, Kama’s wrath and insatiable thirst for revenge were gifts unexpected.”  Jiraiya smiled weakly as he ran a hand over each box.  “These were the ones who helped established the foundations of this land, they paved the road to progress with their riches and unearthly powers.  Mighty beings of vision they were; scorned, betrayed, weakened by talismans and now, reduced to bone dust.  This one, Hatake Masaki,” he whispered, “done in by the machinations of clan Shimura; accused of witchcraft, he was drawn and quartered in the town square.  Hatake Enoki and Botan, the twins, killed by the Uchiha.  This one here, Hatake Kuwa; met his end after a coup by rebel yokai. Lastly, Hatake Kama, the most powerful and bloodthirsty of them all.  He crushed the rebellion which took the life of his brother, sired countless seed born of witches, breeding fealty to clan Hatake into those who were cursed as yokai. Took the combined effort of the Hyuga, Shimura and Kokucho clans to bring him down.”

Maito dropped to one knee when Jiraiya paused before the last container.  “And here are the treasured remains of Kama’s only son; my lord and friend ... Hatake Sakumo. I will not let you repeat the same mistakes I made.”

“Mistakes sir?

“The love Sakumo had for a human drove him from the path …as his friend, I reveled in his happiness and took part in his schemes to safeguard his child.  As his servant, I stood by his side, speaking reason when it was too late to be heard.  I valued his friendship above all else, and I let it overshadow the duty to my lord as his counselor.  Listen well, young one, you will incur the master’s wrath as you seek to protect him from his own desires ...yet you must buck up against that fear, for the enemy within poses the greatest threat."

"I swear on my life to do as you’ve said, my lord."

"Good."  Bending down beside Maito, he pointed to a chest at the base of the shrine inlaid with gold and precious gems.  “These are the remains of Hatake Mari; wife of Sakumo, mother of Kakashi. Both of their remains have been disturbed.”

Carefully studying each shelf, he tilts his head to the side asking, “How can you tell sir?”  

“Well for one thing, their positioning has changed. Apart from Kama, each of these chests also had four seals, one at each corner.  I was present when Sakumo sealed lady Mari’s, watched him apply them with my own eyes.  As for Sakumo, I applied the four seals; they’re all missing now.”

“I can't imagine who would do such a thing, my lord.  This wing of the manor has been closed off since our return; none of the servants would dare enter these halls, much less this room.  Only the master, you and I know of this place.”  Maito raised his eyes to Jiraiya, shocked by the implication his words carried, he sadly shook his head saying, “You don't think master--?”

“I learned too late of his intention to conquer and rule over the humans and gaki of the Five Great Nations … it was the same foolish desire Hatake Kama held. As the last Hatake of his time and with his family name on the brink of extinction, Kama dreamed of revenge; unfortunately, revenge required a form of sorcery unheard of during his time. I’ve reason to believe Kama’s folly has found its home inside lord Kakashi.”

“In this I hope you are wrong my lord.”

“I hope so too," he sighed.  "The death of his mother deeply affected your master.  He drew close to his father after her death; I suspect he’s looking for their comfort and guidance by taking in their remains.”

“You think he’s ingesting them sir?”

“The evidence before us confirms your words and my fears,” Jiraiya said as he stood.  Running his index finger over the crease  in his chin he mumbled. “Unwittingly, I've fed into the young lord’s plan to pursue Kama’s goal.  Had I but known it yesterday, I never would have gifted him the second ingredient."

"Long ago, master spoke to me about the research begun by his father and Professor Yamada.  I do not remember much of that conversation, but I think master did say three elements were lacking to complete their work."

"And when the time comes, your master will bring all things to your remembrance."

"My lord's recall is meticulous and impressive."

 "Lord Kakashi is indeed his father's son; that's why I shut myself up in here, scouring this library for hours on end.  Lord Sakumo was a keen observer, given to recording copious notes; in light of the tragedies this family endured, he was also inclined to cautiousness.   I used to tease him about that penchant of his," he laughed, "anticipating and preparing for events which might never occur was how he passed his time.  How I wish he'd addressed this present situation."

“We needn’t fear, for not only is my lord wise, he is well acquainted and brutally honest about his temperament.  He will take no action without careful consideration and if the spirits guide him, I’ve no doubt he will …”

The slap he’d earlier prepared for came without warning.

“Do you not yet understand? If lord Kakashi is doing what I think he is, this unslakable thirst to rule will have cataclysmic results for all of us.  The spirits may well lend him their strength, but his mother’s remains will affect him in ways disastrous.  Up, stand to your feet, let us quit this place.  I know of a shaman in the Land of Earth who might have the answers I seek.  I should return in time for the soiree.”

“Lord Jiraiya,” he said wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, “What do you wish me to do in your absence?”

“Pay close attention to your master's behavior and speech.  Should he begin acting strangely, do not hesitate or fail to confront him.”

“Yes, my lord,” he said lifting his eyes to the man who now towered over him.

"As Kama was long ago, your master is the only Hatake left," he said helping Maito stand. "We must do all we can to ensure he is not the last Hatake this world will ever know."

As they left the alcove, as the secret passageway was once more hidden, Jiraiya turned himself about saying, “There is an odor most foul in the mansion. The longer I’m exposed to it, the more desperate I become to eradicate it at the source.”

“That would be Kinoe, sir.  Master prizes his skills and intelligence … he won’t allow me to destroy him.”

“I have no such restrictions, yet I will respect the master’s will.  What’s this?  You’re not concerned this _Kinoe_ will usurp your position, are you?”

Maito dropped his eyes to the carpet.  “In matters of human business, he is more proficient than I.  And if master walks with the mortals … what need will he have of me?”

Laughing heartily, Jiraiya grabbed him by the shoulder.  “I slapped the foolishness out of you ... will I now have to slap sense into you?"

"No, my lord," he said rubbing at the sting in his cheek.

“Ah youth ... tis wasted on the young.  For a moment, it looked as if you were pouting, Maito.  You and your master are bound for all eternity; nothing or no one can change that.   Come along now, we have no time for petty jealousies.  I’m certain he will find other uses for your talents and your belly will never suffer want.  One favor I ask; while I reside in the manor, do your best to keep that Kinoe thing far from me.”

“Understood, my lord.”

**Recherché**

Izumo sat on the side of his bed, reasoning within himself.   _Maybe I overdid it; made him eat and drink too much. I should go to him,_ he thinks sliding his feet into the nearby slippers. _Wait, the moans are softer now, doesn’t sound as if he’s in pain.  Good heavens!  What was I thinking?  If he’s enjoying a private moment and I rush in there …  might be awkward for both of us._ He kicked off the slippers and blew out the candle on the bedside table _.  No, best leave him release tension his own way._   

**Recherché**

“There are two others?” the young man asked the creatures gathered round him. “And the constables have them under surveillance, I see.  Fresh human blood and shards of bone lay in the woods as well … this might complicate things.  I think you’re right; travel under the cover of darkness is the best option, though it will push my arrival back a day or so.”

 

Notes:

Disconcertment: the emotional state of being made self-consciously uncomfortable.

Lambent: softly bright or radiant.

Kowtow: the act of deep respect shown by prostration; kneeling and bowing so low one’s head touches the ground.  The highest sign of worship used to show reverence to one’s elders or superiors.

Alcove: a recess or small room adjacent to or opening out of a room.

Ossuary: a chest or box for the final resting place of human skeletal remains.

Enoki (“a nettle tree”), Botan (“peony”), Kuwa (‘hoe”) and Kama (“scythe”), were the names Masashi Kishimoto considered for the character who eventually became known as Kakashi (“scarecrow”).  The addition of the name Masaki was mine.

In modern times when a body is cremated, what remains are bone fragments.  These are pulverized to powder by a grinding machine and placed in an urn.  In the days of Japan’s past, the bones were left whole after cremation, (or as whole as was possible) and then placed inside an urn either for burial or to keep inside a household shrine.


	28. Gilded Butterflies in Cages of Cartilage

 

Early morning, two days before the event of the season:

“There you go,” Ibiki proudly said when he deposited a stack of folders on the watch commander’s desk, "the monthly and quarterly reports.”

Ryota cast a nonchalant glance toward the ungainly heap.  “Impressive. Districts filed alphabetically and chronologically,’ he said giving them a cursory thumb through, “you’re obviously bored.”

“You should be on your feet cheering and yes, I’m bored to tears.  Nevertheless, I’ve a meeting with the Governor.  Have the stable master bring Mayonaka to the Complex.  I’ll be heading out to Hatake manor once this meeting wraps.  If there’s anything else that needs my attention or signature, best hand it over now.”  

“I can hold down the fort while you're gone, but if you're in need of a chuckle, have a look at this,” Ryota said as he shoved one of the deputy’s reports toward Ibiki. “The last crew that went out to secure the crime scene said they couldn’t find it.”

“Keep it,” he sighed, “no sense gettin’ my dander up about nothing.  We’ve recovered enough evidence to keep Genma busy and that's good enough for me. Reckon I’ll be back by late afternoon.”    

The trek across the busy plaza he found unsettling; the warm smiles, the cheery greetings,

and then it happened.   
  
Someone ran up behind him, nearly slapping the air from his lungs when a beefy hand landed between his shoulder blades.  

 _Only one man in the territory is that stupid,_ he thought turning to face the Coroner with a growl.

“Idate?  What the hell are you doing here?”

“Missed those warm smiles and gigantic hugs of yours, ‘Biki.”  

“And you narrowly missed gettin’ a rap in the mouth too.”

“Always so pleasant.  And to answer your question, I’m in town because of Tsume; needs supplies from the apothecary,” he cautiously looked around, “and I need a break from her.  You look surprisingly well fed and rested, how go things with you?”

“Let’s see … townsfolk aren’t flinging rotten produce at my head and they’ve yet to hang me in effigy, well ... this week anyway.  All in all, things are going well.”

“So, in other words, you’re bored outta your skull.”

Ibiki smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say?”

“Say you’ll come back to the farm with me.  Could really use your help; two rigs need surgery--”

“Stop right there, I pass,” he shuddered, “but as it happens, an errand takes me out your way this afternoon.  I’d be willing to help with anything else, in exchange for one of Hana’s bentos.”

Idate reached out as they walked and shook his hand, “You got a deal.  But don’t try to be slick and sweet talk my wife, old man.  No work, no bento.”

“Oh no, you're onto me ... whatever shall I do?"

“Jackass.”

“I can tell you don’t come to town much, bumpkin... the apothecary is that way.”

“Yes,” he gestured toward the Admin complex, “but the assessor’s office is over there.  Property taxes are due next month.  Not a capital crime to pay early, is it?”

“No, but I might make an exception in your case.”

“Gee, you’re all heart, 'Biki.”

“Right this way, hayseed” he said holding the one of the double doors open.  “Hate to find my brother’s name on the scofflaw list.”

“You’re here to speak with the Governor?”

“What about it?”

“Do me a favor, ask if she wouldn’t mind--”

“Idate, she was a people doctor, not a vet; hardly think she has time to--”

“If I wanted my intelligence belittled, I coulda stayed home ... Tsume is much better at it than you.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Every now and again, the Governor would send medical students our way when we were in a pinch, like we are now.  Do me a favor, ask if she’d consider doing it again.  It’ll be the same deal ... free room and board, a little pocket change included.”

"Yeah, yeah … I’ll ask.  See ya,” he said as they parted ways at the reception area.

**Recherché**

“It’s almost nine o’clock in the morning.  Reckon he rushed her outta here before dawn?”

Izumo laid down his pen and sighed.  “For the last time Tetsu, he had too much to eat and drink last night… his stomach was griping--”

“Didn’t sound like no bellyache to me. All that moanin’ and groanin’ …  he was greasin’ the fire pole I tell ya.”

“Must you be so vulgar?”

“Oh, calm down Frumpystilskin, we’re all men here.”

“Just stop talking … please.”  Izumo returned to his writing as Kotetsu’s spoon rattled against the sides of his mug.  “I never knew Ruka was such a show-off.  Personally, I woulda conducted my business at the cathouse. The walls are thicker.”

“And how would you know that?”

Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms across his chest saying, “Unlike you and Ruka, I didn’t read about sex in some dusty schoolbook.  Nope ... I got out there and experienced it.”

“I'm sure that's not my business and don't you go wandering off to get more ... 'experience,' hear me?  We can’t afford to waste our money frivolously. The way I figure, it’ll be another month before things get tight, so, don’t even--”

“Hey, I’ve been doing my part since we got here. We’ve been eating on the regular and for nothing, why? Because of me.  If ya hothouse petunias weren't afraid of getting your hands dirty, I could teach you to live off the land--”

“Let's hope it doesn’t come to that, Tetsu.”

“How long were you planning to stay here anyway?  We collected most of the amulets, I’ve sharpened all the weapons ... we can knock off Hatake at this shindig, go back to London and find work there.”  

“Why bother going back to London?  We can take out Hatake and stay right here in Konoha at the expense of the people.  I’m sure they won’t mind housing us rent free while we await execution for murder.”  

“You got no stones Zumo ... speaking of which," he gestured with his chin toward the disheveled looking Iruka, "somebody got a lot of bang for their buck last night.”

Izumo turned to see his cousin staggering from his room; his hair every which way, his forehead dotted with perspiration, the dark circles under his eyes could have been used for archery practice, “Damn Ruka ... you look like hell,” he said without thinking.

“Hush up the both of you ... had a rough night okay? Didn’t get much sleep--”

“So we heard,” Kotetsu answered with a wink.  “Well, where is she?”

“There was no _she_ you pervert,” he grumbled falling into the chair beside Izumo.  “Just kept having the same nightmare over and over.”

“Seriously, was she that ugly?”

“Come on, get it together," he said while cutting his eyes at Kotetsu.  "I’ll make you some tea, Iruka.”  

The moment he disappeared into the kitchen, Kotetsu scooted into the abandoned seat whispering, “Okay, he’s gone now, you can tell me ... what was she like?”

Elbows on the table, the palms of his hands supporting his brow, Iruka snapped, “Nothing to tell as I’ve no time for carnal pursuits--”

“There’s the problem right there.  You gotta find time for life’s little pleasures, Ruka ... it might help you relax.”

“Honestly, you’ve got a one-track mind this morning," Izumo called from the kitchen. "Go on then, leave him alone."  He shooed Kotetsu from his seat saying, "Here, drink this; black tea, with a little ginger root.  It’ll wake you up and settle your stomach.”

“So, nightmares, huh,” Kotetsu asked, “wanna talk about 'em?”

“Not particularly.  Just a series of very interesting images, that’s all.”

“Iruka, you don’t have tell us if you don’t--”  

“It's okay.  Tetsu will likely pester me all day if I leave it unsaid.  It was like any other nightmare ...  strange,” he said after savoring his first sip.  “I'd rendered Hatake powerless, he was lying flat on the ground before me.  I approached with dagger in hand and fell on him.  But the moment I thought to plunge my blade into his chest, he gave me this smug little grin and lifted his hand to my face.  Somehow or another, he’d ripped the heart out of my chest; I watched him squeeze it until it exploded.  But instead of blood running down his hand, get this, there were hundreds of tiny puppets ... every one of them looked exactly like me.  They surrounded my body and pulled me down until I was on my back while Hatake stood over me.  I watched him chew up what was left of my heart and then he ran off into the forests.”

“That’s it?  I thought you said it was interesting?”

Izumo kicked him in the shin under the table.  “What our idiot friend is trying to say is, your dream sounds like a bad case of nerves.  It’s just a party, Iruka. Chances are you’ll see Hatake briefly before he’s rushed off to greet other guests. We can make a graceful exit after an hour --”

“Yeah,” Kotetsu chimed in, “an hour, that oughta be enough time for us to split up and snoop around.”  

Iruka gave forth a dry laugh.  “That part is easier said than done. The party is less than a day away and my ‘ace in the hole’ is god knows where--”

“Forget about that character, he didn’t even have the decency to respond to your letter," Izumo said as he patted him on the shoulder.  "If it’s any consolation, you still have us--”

“Damn right,” Kotetsu added, “a pinch penny and a pervert ...we’re an unstoppable team.”

Iruka took another sip and smiled. “Believe it or not, that is oddly encouraging.”

“To be clear, I’m encouraging,” Izumo said, “and him … he’s just odd.”

“Go ahead, yuck it up, ya yahoos.  Last laugh is on you.  Ruka’s all wound up about some stupid dream and you're talkin' out the side of your neck Zumo; either one of you geniuses realize we still don’t know where Hatake lives?”

“Well that's easily fixed," Iruka cheerily replied.  "I’ll drop by the Governor’s office, update her on this development and get directions while I’m at it.”

“Good idea.  I’m thinking the other amulets should be ready now.  Me and Tetsu will pay a visit to the temple--”

“Well I think you gotta another think coming Zumo.  I hate going up there … they always look at me funny.” His eyes darted between his two silent friends.   "First one to say, ‘it's because I’m funny looking, gets a punch in the head.”

**Recherché**

Lady Tsunade was nursing one helluva hangover so his report was delivered in hushed tones with no questions asked.  When Ibiki emerged from the building, the stable manager and his mount were standing near the fountain in the plaza.  Even the pushcart vendors were coldly cordial as he brushed past them.   _Must be my lucky day,_ he thought _,_

and it was ... until he reached the forest.  

“What in blue blazes?  How is it possible for an entire area to vanish into thin air?  Come on Mayonaka .... let's get the hell outta here.”  

He fared no better at the house of Hatake.

“I’m afraid master is unavailable,” the servant told him through a partially opened front door.   

“How fortunate that I came to see you then Kinoe.”

“Well in that case, do come in Inspector.”  

Behind the nervous servant with the fake smile, other of the household help were running about cleaning and polishing, dusting and sweeping.

“I just need to know if a decision’s been made about my request.”

“Oh, my heavens,” Kinoe said flipping through the folder he held, “I’ve been rushed off my feet since last I saw you … forgot to send a messenger with this.  Sorry.”

Once Ibiki scanned down to the part of the letter giving him permission, he said, “I’d like to have a few men in plain clothes inside the manor too, if that’s alright.”

“Certainly.  I’ll be announcing the guests as they arrive, just tell me how to recognize your men.”

“They’ll flash their badges.”

“Right, excuse me, somewhat disjointed today, mind going in a thousand directions at once.  On behalf of our guests I thank you for the extra care you're providing--"

“We’re doing this for lord Hatake’s protection, not theirs.  Threats have been made, I wanna keep this person from sneaking in among the other guests.”

“An assault on the master would certainly put a damper on the festivities.  Could you give me a description of this ne’er-do-well,” he said readying his pen, “I mean, on the off chance he slips past your men?”

Ibiki clamped down on his anger, forcing a response through clenched jaws.  “Average height and weight ... late twenties, early thirties, very distinct scar across his nose. Goes by the name of Umino Iruka; he’ll be accompanied by two other gentlemen.”  

Kinoe stopped writing for a moment.  “Umino?  Hmm, that might present a problem for my master,” he said turning a few pages in the folder.  “Dr. Umino Iruka is an invited guest.”

"How’s that?"

“From what I understand, the Governor encouraged his invitation.  She didn’t tell you?"

“Must’ve slipped her mind,” Ibiki ground out. “Nevertheless, my men will be in place should Umino create a ruckus. Good day, Kinoe.”

He rode back into town angry and confused, the promise to Idate forgotten.  He and Mayonaka were just coming to a halt when Lady Tsunade walked out of the Complex.  He spoke without care about his tone of voice.  “Ma’am,” he why didn’t you tell me? Umino attending Hatake’s party?”

“See here, Inspector, I just found out he accepted the invite not twenty minutes ago. Why is that your concern?  Oh my god ... what have you done, Ibiki?”

**Recherché**

“Itachi ... come in son.”  

The young man entered the study, bowing before his father and taking a seat beside him.

“Lords Orochimaru and Danzou just left; boorish idiots, they could speak nothing apart from this grand soiree.  There will be many people of influence at this affair and I think it wise you join them.  Never hurts to have to political contacts within the other nations.”

“But Father, I’ve already refused.  It would be gauche if turned up out of the blue.”

“Now you sound like your mother,” Fugaku laughed.  “Gauche or not, you will attend.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Notes:

Rig: male horse with one or two undescended testicles.  

Scofflaw: one who flouts the law, especially one who fails to pay fines or fees owed.


	29. Twinkle Twinkle Little Lies ... Time to Blind Your Great Big "I"s

Early evening, **two days** before the event of the season:

In an office silent, his name it sweetly calls. “ _There is another way_ ,” it whispers.  A pert near useless arrest warrant smolders in his pocket as his arm slowly extends, fingers desperate to fiddle with the glimmering images on the small card.

“Hope I’m not interrupting nothing,” Genma says as he barges in.  “Knew you needed this information soon as possible. You know what I think?  I think we got another serial killer on our hands.”

With his mind in limbo and eyes glazed, Ibiki pulls the card closer; the ink, still tacky to the touch, he watches it melt into his skin. Genma is nothing more than a series of clicks and pops, background noise to the words he distinctly hears within himself.  

“ _If you read through the warrant again,”_ the voice said, “ _you will find a loophole.”_

He dug through the breast pocket of his uniform, fishing out the paper bearing the magistrates seal.  Laying the crumpled, sweat stained document beside the small card, his eyes zigzag up and down the page; the justification necessary glares back at him. 

_And so it is.  What else would you have me do?_

_“Your men will_ _abandon their searches in the forest ,"_ the voice instructed _.  "You will also bring to halt any work being done on those deportation papers.”_

A strident voice breaks through the fog in his mind, the weight of Genma's presence before his desk draws him back to the then and now.  “So then I said to myself, yes siree; every last one of ‘em had the same marks on the femur. Almost like a signature on a painting ... exceptin' of course  we don't know who this artist is, eh?”

Ibiki’s eyes continue to drift between the invitation and the grinning man who stands six inches from the edge of his desk.  _Shall I kill him?_

“ _No, as you will, so must he live to play his appointed role._

“Yep, full moon’s a comin’ and no ordinary one is this. Folks say it will turn red like blood.  That’ll be a sight.  Inspector ... you listening?’

“No. If you’ve got a written report, leave it with Ryota ... it’s a police matter now.”

“Hey ... you alright there?  Kinda blanked out on me in mid-sentence.  Reckon I oughta be used to that by now, but you know--”

“Kindly close the door on your way out.”

“Oh … uh, yeah.  Sure I can't get ya something?  Hot tea ... a stiff drink maybe?”

"The door, Genma ... close it as you exit."

As his footsteps recede, once more Ibiki hears the now familiar whisper.  “ _Well done."_

Late evening, **two days before** the event of the season.    

“Of all my children … I never completely understood that one.  Been sitting out there for hours you know; servants tell me he’s staring off into space and muttering to himself.  Probably called me every name in the book by now,” Fugaku joked as he looked out the bedroom window and into the back garden.   

“You’re the one I don’t understand,” said the woman at his side.  “One minute you’re beaming with pride because he did what you expected … the next minute you’re scowling and forcing him into a situation that challenges everything he’s heard and known all his life.  If that weren’t confusing enough, now you’re taking leave of the territory in the dark of night.  How is he supposed to react to such crotchet?”

“Yes, he got his good looks from me obviously, but that aura of mystery … that’s all you Mikoto.” He made to reach out for her dainty hand saying, “I can never tell what either of you are thinking until it’s too late.”

She lightly slapped at his wrist while angling her body outside his reach.  “What you’re doing isn’t fair … you’re not even listening to me, are you?”

“On the contrary, when my beloved speaks, mine heart doth attend.”

“Hah … as if honeyed words will save you this time.”

“Then shall I speak plainly,” he started as a servant entered the room.

“Pardon, my lord and lady … shall I take the portmanteau now?”

Fugaku turned and with a wave of his hand said, “Leave it.” By the time the bedroom door softly closed, Mikoto was pacing the floor.  “Success in business demands flexibility, elsewise opportunities die on the vine,” he said reaching for her hand again as she walked past him.  “And in matters of business as well as matters of the heart, luck favors the prepared.  By word and deed, I’m teaching him a valuable lesson.”

“You’re teaching him to be wishy washy.”

“Lest you forget dearest, we’ve two rigs in Tsume’s care.  I’ve no doubt those soon to be geldings will become prodigious racehorses in time, but we can’t wait for that … the need for sires is desperate.” He managed to capture her wrist this time and pulled her close.  “Lord Danzou mentioned in passing that a certain cash strapped breeder is sending three champion stallions to auction in Water Country. I must act quickly--”

“Pfft … horses and money,” she replied twisting out of his grip, “the only things you seem to care about these days--”

“How deep the wound my love.  You know this family is always foremost in my thoughts.”

“I find that hard to believe since you’re running away from your son when he needs you most. Why not stay till the morning and talk to him?”

“That I cannot do, my sweet.”  He successfully caught her around the waist this time steering her toward the bench at the foot of the bed.  “What Itachi needs most is freedom from my shadow.”

Mikoto allowed herself to ease down on the bench with a slight huff as his tone was conciliatory when he sat beside her. “I left instructions for him …all he need do is mingle with the dignitaries at that man’s soiree and extend an invitation to our home--”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but Itachi refused to attend … won’t it be awkward if he just shows up at that man’s home?”

“It’s already taken care of.  I dispatched a messenger explaining away the misunderstanding and confirming Itachi’s attendance.  Hatake,” he snarled, “is simply a means to an end.”

“And what might that be?”

“Think about it.  Why would anyone outside the territory accept an invitation to the home of one of our minor nobles? New streams of revenue, of course. Konoha is the first in Japan to establish trade with the West and that makes us their rivals for a new marketplace.  They know full well greedy foreigners will demand more than Fire Country can provide alone, so it makes sense to seek connections with our people--”

 “Don’t you think other businessmen inside the territory are plotting the same thing?”

“If they have any sense at all, yes, but if the Uchiha can convince them to invest in our silver and copper mines for example, we turn rivals into allies and our family reaps the benefits.  You know, I’ve heard cloisonné is becoming quite the thing in Europe …”

“I’m aware of that,” she sighed, “we read the same newspapers, remember?”   

“My bag is packed and the carriage awaits,” he said placing his hand on hers.  He drew her close and softly kissed her on the cheek.  “I’ll be back by the night of the soiree and I promise to speak with Itachi the following morning.  I’ve taught him well … he’ll do what is right and best for our family, you’ll see.”

“I still don’t think you should leave without speaking to him.”

“Ah, but if I refuse my darling’s request, her pique will smolder in my absence,” he said with a wink.  “And how I do enjoy finding new ways to beg her forgiveness.”

She melted against him whispering, “Uchiha Fugaku, you’re incorrigible.”

**Recherché**

 

“You’re outta your mind Zumo … you know I aint got a superstitious bone in my body--”

“Then there must be another logical explanation for your actions. I mean, pouring salt around every entrance and exit of the cabin isn’t something I’d expect from you.”

“Look here, I’m doing this because once you tell him everything Michio said, he’s gonna be upset; I'm just looking out for Ruka... you got a problem with that?”

“Long as you’re going to clean up this mess … no.”

He tossed the empty salt bag at Izumo’s head saying, “All that mumbo jumbo about the amulets drawing gaki to the bearer … you think Iruka knew about that?”

“Perhaps.  It would explain why he kept the bulk of them separate from our lodgings. Michio warned us about what _could_ happen, but we made it back from the temple safely, didn’t we?”

“Yeah well, it was still daylight when we got here; those gaki things don’t come out until nighttime.  So, where the hell is he?”

“What am I his keeper, Tetsu?  He probably stayed for dinner with the Governor.  Maybe he stopped to help an old lady carry her bags home from the market.  I'm certain Iruka will be back soon.  Besides, between this cabin and the Administrative Complex … where else would he go?”

 

**Recherché**

**“** I never knew this,” Itachi said to the shadowy figure standing before him.  “If this is the only way and I the chosen one to carry out your will … strengthen my heart for the task.”  The ethereal being drew closer.  “ _Look deeply into my eyes_ _and I will bequeath to you a portion of mine hatred and my power,”_ it said. _Receive it with gladness that your will may not falter at the time appointed.”_

“Yes, lord Hatake,” he whispered.

**Recherché**

A pine cone crunched under his boot shattering the quiet of the woods.  _The cabin’s just ahead …_ _better hurry before they start looking for me,_ he thought.

“ _Your vow have I heard my son_ ,” echoed the familiar voice through the trees.

“Fa … father?”

“ _Do not doubt or be afraid, Iruka_.”

His hands flew to cover his ears, _No, this can’t be,_ he thought scanning the forest, _I will not succumb to madness!_

He took off running as the voice continued,

_“I’ve come to guide you … listen well my son.”_

His heart nearly burst out of his chest when a vision of Umino Tadashi stood before him, its arms spread wide to capture him.  _“If anyone understands the conflict you’re having … it’s me.  I waited too long to act; went to my grave with the blood of many an innocent on my hands.  I'll not let you suffer the same fate.”_

Iruka fell to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks.  "I don’t know if I can do this, Father.”

Suddenly the vision spoke the same words penned in Tadashi’s final journal entry. 

_"Seishinryoku, it is yours.  I am ever with you my son, closer than your next heartbeat."_

Long after the vision dissipated, Iruka remained on his knees, sobs wracking his body.

**Recherché**

  _Only twelve remain,_ he thought while scrabbling up the outcropping of rock.   _That's a good sign. It will take but a moment’s preparation to receive them._

In the shadows of fallen timber, they hid, watching and waiting.  Soon, gnarled tree roots would become a makeshift cradle, a spongy carpet of sheet moss, the cushion for a roll of heavyweight parchment, longer than the arms and wider than the body of him who called them forth.  

At last, alone he sits, his pose meditative, his eyes unceasingly active, scanning the forest floor.

He hears them now; their tiny feet, heavy bodies and long hairy tails scattering leaf litter as they dart through the underbrush. When at last they assemble before him, the moon has risen higher, its yellowish white beams reflecting in their eyes of bitumen.  Though some are bruxing and others softly chirping, all look to him with whiskers atwitch.  And as the low sad sounding whoops of the Scops owl dies down, the young man asks,

“Who will be my first offering?”

One of the creatures waddles forward, situating itself dead center of the parchment. It looks to his fellows and dissolves with a piercing shriek into a large ebony splotch.

The young man waves his hand over the slowly spreading splatter and suddenly, chaos becomes order; neatly written characters crawl from the blackness, aligning themselves into neat rows.  One behind the other, each of the remaining eleven creatures join their brethren and now is their story completely told.  

 _Concentrated spiritual energy just north of here_ , he thought while rolling out a smaller scroll. 

Quick as lightening, he draws six more creatures, the words from the larger scroll are absorbed into their bodies and to the north they scamper.  The young man packs his belongings and heads south east through the forests.

**Recherché**

Six miles from the cabin, Kinoe and Maito kneel before their master inside the salon.

“Representatives from the lands of Earth and Wind arrive tomorrow afternoon, my lord. Their accommodations stand ready to receive them.”

“Very well Kinoe.  Apologize for my absence and see to it my guests are afforded every hospitality.”

“With pleasure, my lord.”

“I trust you’ve sufficiently trained the other attendees?”

“That I have master.”

 "Good.  You will release them from the holding pens and supervise as they entertain my guests.”

“One thing more, my lord.  Inspector Morino paid a visit earlier this afternoon.  He seemed most distressed after learning Dr. Umino was on the guest list.   It was all I could do to keep a straight face while he was talking.   He also wanted some of his officers to attend the party in plain clothes … naturally I agreed on your behalf, my lord.”

“Naturally _,”_ Maito mumbled.

The master nodded as he replaced his snifter on the table beside him.  “Maito, find out who these men are.  I want you and the Yasha to see to it they do nothing to prevent Umino’s arrival.”

“Consider it done, master.” 

"As for you, Kinoe, a great feast awaits inside your quarters; venomous snakes, shrews and lizards,” he said with a shudder. “Go now, gorge yourself.”  After his gleeful servant hied from the room, he gestured for Maito to take a seat.  “Where did lord Jiraiya run off to?”

“I believe he had business in the land of Earth my lord.”

“You were inside my father’s bedchamber tonight where you bowed your knee at the shrine of my ancestors.  I must discover lord Jiraiya’s special technique to secure your prompt obedience.”

“My lord, I did as he asked because--”

“Let us be clear about two things, Maito.  Though you have great respect for him, Jiraiya is not your master.  Secondly, you are never to step foot inside my father’s private chambers unless I accompany you.”

“My lord, it will never happen again … forgive me.”

"A blood moon,” he said more to himself than his servant, “how appropriate will its appearance be on the night of the soiree.  A spectacle of wonder in the heavens and the embodiment of horror on the earth.  This night have I visited my prey … stoking a fire in his belly.  While he slumbers I shall return to begin his torment anew.”

“I shall I go with you my lord--”

“Did I not issue orders Maito or can it be you think me feeble?  Since when have I required protection against a sleeping human?” 

“Master ... his friends brought the amulets from the temple; powerful prayers were spoken over them and--”

“Can the empty words of men and worthless trinkets stand against the power of a god?  Flee from my sight while my temper still holds!"  

Notes:

Crotchet: a sudden odd fancy or whimsical notion.

Portmanteau (British): a case or bag to carry clothing in while traveling, especially a leather suitcase that opens into two halves.

Cloisonné:  the art of enameling an object (typically made of copper) whereby fine wires are used to delineate the decorative areas into which enamel paste is applied before the object is fired and polished.  1890-1910 were the years considered the “Golden Age” of Japanese cloisonné enamels which were made for display at great World Exhibitions of that time.

Seishinryoku: “spiritual strength, courage.”

Scops owl: small and agile hunters, colored in various brownish hues, they are resident breeders in Japan.  They prefer areas containing old trees with hollows, which are home to prey such like insects, bats and mice.  Their superb sense of hearing helps them locate food in any habitat.

Bruxing (rat behavior): the soft, repetitive grinding of the incisors against each other.  It serves to sharpen them and may be done in times of relaxation.


	30. Twinkle, Twinkle Little Lies (Part Two)

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Lies ... Time to Blind Your Great Big "I"s

(Part Two)

 

Early morning, **one day** before the event of the season

 

“I remember reading somewhere that worry ages a person.”

“Your point?”

“When you went to bed last night Iruka, you were twenty-seven years old; this morning you look like a doddering eighty-year-old.  Come on, talk to me … what the hell is going on?”

“I think I might be losing the last of my marbles … okay?”

“The time to worry about madness is when you wanna sleep on a tin roof during a thunderstorm or when you attempt to set your hair on fire.”

 “I saw my father last night.”

“Well, that had to be a pleasant dream--”

“If only,” was breathed out with a heavy sigh.  “He was standing right in front of me Zumo; arms outstretched, one eyebrow raised and that crooked smile on his lips … you know the one,” he said with a soft chuckle.  “Such a relief to see him; I was at once encouraged … and full of regret for having failed him.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched Izumo push aside his mug of tea; with his chin to chest, his hands dropped into his lap, the search for a logical explanation, abandoned. “You were never a failure in his eyes, Iruka.”

Their tea grew tepid as in worrisome silence they sat; Izumo waiting for the unburdening, Iruka reluctant to shirk off the guilt.

“I was coming back from the Governor’s office when I got disoriented in the forest.   Suddenly, Father showed up and pointed me in the right direction. Zumo, I know it was him … I could even smell the pomade he always used to groom his hair.” After taking another sip of tea, he mumbled, “Go on … say it.  You think I’ve gone ‘round the bend, don’t you?”

Izumo leaned forward striking a thoughtful pose; elbows on the table, fingers entwined before his lips, “No … I don’t.  You had a close relationship with your father; no shame in needing his kind of support right now.  As to the vision, I think that overheated brain of yours finally figured out a way to provide comfort--”

“Perhaps.  But, whether real or imagined, his presence gave me peace for a time.”

“So, why is it you look like you’re coming off a three-day drunk this morning?”

“Which is it, am I old or am I hungover?" Scraping his nails over a stubbly chin, he said, "You have to promise not to laugh, okay?”

Drawing an imaginary cross over his heart, Izumo smiled and nodded.

"All night long I felt a malevolent 'presence' inside my room; for hours, it stood at the foot of the bed watching me toss and turn. Reeked of rotting flesh it did … kept thinking it would smother me at any moment--”

“Then it’s worse than I thought,” Kotetsu said when the door closed behind him.  “First it was the nightmares … now you're seeing things?  Ruka, you’re unraveling fast buddy and if you don’t start relaxing soon … you will crack up.  That settles it,” he said dropping the basket beside the door, “if I hafta drag you there myself, you’re going to the cathouse--”

“Would you stop with that please, Tetsu?  Sex isn’t the answer for every problem--”

“Says the virgin Kamizuki.”

“I am not a virg--”

“Maybe I oughta drag you over there with us, Zumo.”

“See here, you Neanderthal … the only person being dragged anywhere today is you.  For god sakes, you’re looking more like a caveman every day.  And you, Iruka, stop making mountains out of molehills. The nightmares, visions and any other strange things you’re experiencing will disappear once this party is behind us, I promise.  Now, no more of this twaddle … from either of you.”

“Alright, simmer down,” Iruka said as he stood to stretch.  “I’ll try to go back to bed, see if I can squeeze out a nap, alright?  Oh, and before I forget, the Governor’s arranged transportation for us; we need to be at her office by six thirty tomorrow evening.”  

“Perfect, that gives us time to go over the plan and fetch our clothes from the washerwomen.  Matter of fact, I’ll run down to the market this morning … be one less thing we have to do tomorrow--”

“Hold it, nobody’s going to bed or into town til we get all this food sorted out,” Kotetsu told them.  “I got enough catfish over there for breakfast and lunch … Ruka, you’re gonna clean ‘em.  Zumo, the traps outside are full of juicy squirrels that need tending to. Well?  Don’t just stand there with your mouths hanging open,” he said walking to the table, “get to work.”

**Recherché**

“More tea, lord Orochimaru?”

“No, thank you ... do stand still for a moment Kabuto.  Now, where was I?"

“Beautiful young woman … appeared in the conservatory last night … rapturous voice--”

“Yes of course.  She kept chanting the same five words over and over and I thought if I jotted them down, she’d say more; she never did.  Soon as I stopped writing, she vanished into thin air. Look at this,” he said thrusting a slip of paper into his servant’s hand.

“A strange vision indeed, my lord, and so too is this.  Looks like a list of herbs,” he said adjusting his glasses, “which I’m hoping was transcribed incorrectly; two of these are quite poisonous you know--”

 “Yes, those you’ll gather from the forests on your own; the others you’ll purchase from the apothecary.”

“I will do as you say master, but would you mind explaining why?”

“Simple.  Dissolution of a partnership.”

“Sir?”

“After that vision, it was clear what I need do.  If I’m to become the next Governor, certain obstacles must be cleared from my path. Now run along and fetch my breakfast … I’ve a busy day ahead.” 

**Recherché**

Having left a spitting mad Kotetsu in the care of a surly barber, Izumo ducked around the corner, heading straight for the Administrative Complex.  He hesitated a moment before striding toward the reception desk.   _No,_ he thought, _t_ _he help he needs is beyond my ability._ _Much easier to ask forgiveness than permission._

“I’d like to speak with the Governor please.”

The mousy clerk never raised her eyes from the papers spread out on the desk.  “Town hall meeting is next week,” she said.  “Signup sheets are to your right.  Next!”

“I had hoped to see her today--”

“Either you wait over there with everyone else or try to catch her as she’s leaving the building. Those are your only options.”

“What about her assistant … is she here?”

Slamming her pencil down, she hissed, “Sit! I’ll see if I can find her.”  

He knew she couldn’t hear it and probably didn’t care, still he thanked her as she stomped toward the outer conference room. Easing away from the counter, Izumo turned and took the only seat available; giving a slight bow to the two women seated across the way, he settled into a chair beside an elderly gentleman. 

“Another full moon,” the man whispered,  “folks get testy.  Don’t take it to heart son.”

 “Thank you, sir … can’t believe I forgot about that.” As he sat quietly, he kept one eye on the door leading from the conference room and one ear open to the conversations around him.

“… utter debauchery,” said one of the ladies.  “And those ‘dancers’ from Earth country are supposed to entertain as well.”

“Humpf … a nobleman who'd allow half naked women to flit about his home … scandalous is what it is,” her friend replied.

“It’s how the rich behave dear; those fancy parties … just a cover for immoral activities.”

“Still,” added another, “with a strange moon rising, those in attendance will be safer than us common folk. I hear tell it will be blood red this time. Chills me it does … most certain to whip the creatures of the woods into a feeding frenzy.”

 “Hush up you silly women,” the man beside him barked,  “oughta embrace the coming of this new moon, not fear it.  Don’t you know its appearance will break the curse over this land?”

“Oh, quiet down you crazy old coot--”

“Crazy? Old?  Why you--!”

“Mr. Kamizuki?”

Izumo almost tripped over his feet as he stood.  Scuttling away from the bickering seniors, he guided Shizune toward the reception area saying, “I need only a few moments of the Governor’s time.  Would it be possible to--?”

“I'm afraid not.  She has a meeting with the Advisory Council in ten minutes.  Is there something I can do to help?”

“Well … this concerns Dr. Umino--”

“I see … come with me then.”  She led him into the outer conference room with a caution, “I’ll let her know you’re here.  And while I can’t promise she’ll speak with you at length, you'll be hard to miss if you sit here.”

Once more was he grateful for her kind intervention yet he was barely comfortable in the chair when the Governor sallied into the room.

“Right. What’s the matter with Dr. Umino? He seemed fine last night--”

“Morning ma’am," he said as he rose and bowed, "I’m here because I understand you have the best medical mind in the Five Nations--”

“Make your point …haven’t time for flattery.”

“Iruka … something is seriously wrong with him.”

“Shizune, provide him with a list of recommended doctors,” she called nearing the exit. “Now, you will excuse me.”

“Lady Tsunade … Iruka needs someone skilled in the art of Kampo.”

Her hand froze on the doorknob.  Slowly she turned, her eyes narrowing on him.  “Tell the Council to start without me Shizune.  I’ll be there soon.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“A young man who studied Western medicine in London,” she said walking back to the table, “how is it you know of Kampo?”

“Umino Tadashi … grew and compounded his own herbs; a godsend for the older Japanese folks who didn’t trust modern medicine.”

“I should have known,” she said pulling out the chair across from him.  “However, here in Japan, 1883, I believe it was, they passed a law revoking the licenses of all Kampo practitioners. Only a handful secretly take patients these days.”

“Then it’s one of the worst kept secrets in Konoha, because I heard tell you’re the best.”  He leaned closer to say, “Iruka would strangle me if he knew I'd come to see you. But there’s no way he’d let anyone other than you, treat him.  Won’t you help him, ma’am?”

She rolled her eyes skyward, “Fine,” she sighed.  “I can write up something for the apothecary.  What are his symptoms?”

“General malaise, sleeplessness, loss of appetite … nightmares--”

“Is that it?  Mr. Kamizuki, surely you can put together a simple sleeping draught--”

“I tried that … didn’t work. This affliction besets his mind Lady Tsunade … he’s not been himself of late.”

“That’s a rather vague diagnosis … I’m sorry, but without examining him, there’s nothing else I can do.”  She made to stand saying, “My guess is, he’s anxious about meeting with Hatake; sure his symptoms will pass once that’s done.”

“I would have continued thinking the same thing … until he told me about a ‘presence’ which hovered over him last night--”

“A presence,” she asked easing back down into her seat, “you mean, a spirit?”  Her fingers traced over the design in the netsuke as her eyes glazed over.  “Odd … right before dawn I heard the voice of my grandfather Hashirama; he warned of an ill wind coming to shake our foundations.  When I sat up, I saw him standing near the foot of my bed and then … he vanished.”

“Iruka saw a vision of his father in the forest last night.”

“Well then, guess this full moon is making us all a little crazy.” Still fiddling with her necklace, she added, “Not three days ago, I thought to go to the Temple … you know, atone for the sins of the land? I didn’t … now it might be too late.  If his symptoms persist or worsen, bring him to me immediately.  And for heaven sake, speak not a word of this, to anyone.”

“Of course.  Thank you for your time and concern ma’am.”

 

**Notes:**

Twaddle: silly, idle talk.

Kampo: the study of traditional Chinese medicine, which the Japanese adopted, developing their own methods of diagnosis and therapy which included acupuncture and moxibustion (the burning of dried mugwort on certain parts of the body, either indirectly through acupuncture needles or directly on the skin). The underlying idea of Kampo is the human body and mind are inseparable and it was thought a balance of the physical and mental were essential to human health. In recent times, it has been demonstrated that a single Kampo formula can act on both the central nervous system and peripheral target organs, i.e., the heart and liver, to improve stress-induced conditions. Today, many Japanese physicians combine conventional psychosomatic therapies and Kampo to treat stress-related diseases. This integrated approach is called _Kampo psychosomatic medicine._


	31. Time Keeps on Tickin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time of meeting draws nigh ...

Time Keeps on Tickin': Smiles to Go, Before We Die

 Calendars mark it not as a holiday, nevertheless, the entire territory of Konoha is in a festive mood. _A happy coincidence_ said some, like a chuckle under the chin by gods beforetime fickle; as if the universe itself was making amends for last month's disappointing Tsukimi Festival.

Howbeever the cause, Konoha never looked a gift horse in the mouth.

You see, it started as a trickle yesterday, with small boatloads of tourists, slowly pushing the inns by the wharf to capacity. By afternoon, that trickle became a rolling stream, and by midnight, the stream turned into a pulsing river.

This morning dawned on anxious innkeepers, banging on the doors of family and friends for assistance. Owners of pack mules found themselves in high demand, for in the next nine hours, they would make the difference between farmers burdened with bumper crops, dining establishments contemplating early closure and inns facing dwindling pantries. The shops along the avenue opened early too, swelling every vendor's till with foreign currency; by noon, many would be dusting off their empty shelves. A night's lodging, family style dining, the promise of a spot on the back lawn; these padded the pockets of enterprising residents as impromptu moon viewing parties were being thrown together all over town.

Yet, even as excitement flavored the air and the rush of revenue lifted the spirits,

a palpable sense of dread was peeking round every corner.

Just north of the town center and beyond humble abodes, everyone else was working on one man's dime:

Lord Hatake Kakashi.

 **7:00 am** : Down at the docks **,** casks of sparkling wines and premium cognacs from the south of France are gently rolled down cargo ship ramps and into waiting wagons. From the lumber mills and the fire brigade in the northeast, came a convoy of eight mule drawn wagons, each laden with cured pine pallets, aromatic kindling, and buckets of sand and stone. These sixteen men, chosen by lottery for an enviable assignment, counted themselves most fortunate. Promised a reward beyond their imagining, they will set to work, constructing the framework for six massive bonfires. Throughout the day will they sample the hospitality of the manor; the richest of foods, the choicest beverages, all which will be served up by enchantingly winsome scullery maids.  And just coming over the ridge from the south, barrels of Kenbishi sake, silk lined cases of kiriko sake cups, wine glasses and tokkuri, softly rattle along in hand drawn wagons. Marching ahead of them are seven ox carts, overflowing with hampers of fresh cut flowers and hand-woven tatami mats. With keen eyes and honest scales, farmers in the northeast weigh and inspect bushel after bushel of fruits and vegetables, while wranglers and shepherds herd choice cattle and fatted lambs to the slaughterhouses.

The house of Hatake demands the highest quality - everything must be without spot or blemish and at the absolute peak of freshness.

 **7:35 am** : Inside the vast manor kitchens, gruff voices are rising above the noise of knives against whetstones. At last, criteria and wagers are set, handshakes exchanged; false cheer flows like a river. It was to be a friendly competition, a culinary affair of honor. Chefs from the countries of Earth, Wind, Lightning and Water drew lines of demarcation in this once for all battle to determine which country's cuisine reigned supreme.

 **7:47 am -** Coroner's office/Mortuary: While Genma busies himself sweeping out an empty morgue, an old friend from the post office raps on the open front door.

"Well looky here … who let you outta your cage?"

"Shut your trap, cold cook," was the rumbled pseudo grouchy response as Hiroyuki entered the shop. "My delivery man's out sick-"

"Sick? Don't ya mean he's hung over?"

"Fine, he's a stinkin' drunk … if he weren't married to my sister, I woulda fired him years ago. That the gossip you lookin' to hear undertaker?"

"You are so easy to wind up, Hiroyuki,” he laughed.  “Anything for me?"

"Nope … somethin' for the Inspector though. Like to get a signature for it, but I aint got time to wait around … so here, drop it by the station house."

Genma ambled toward his friend, "Gotta do your job for ya too?"

"Inspector weren't in this morning … be nightfall for I'm done with the entire route. Well? You gonna do this or aint ya?"

Genma reached out for the wrinkled tan envelope, abandoning the broom against a cabinet. "Feels heavy …reckon it's a love letter from that Queen Victoria lady? Nah, must be a training manual or some such--"

"Don't know, don't care," Hiroyuki mumbled as he turned about. "Came from London addressed to the 'Chief Constable' … see he gets it."

As he fiddled with the envelope's fastener, Genma let out a low whistle. "Second night of a full moon … guardin' all them high muckety mucks up at that shindig … maybe I oughta hold onto this till tomorrow-"

"No dice," croaked the postman as he turned back. "Whether he looks at the damn thing today or never, aint my business. The job is to deliver it-"

"Geez, calm down ya old fart, I'll do it.  You know me, always willin' to help the Inspector any way I can, 'sides ... not like I got nothin' goin' on."

Hiroyuki started for the door again saying, "So, what ya think … we gonna get another victim before dawn?"

Genma lifted his eyes to the hills with a sigh. "If I wish for business," he said helping the older man climb into the mail wagon, "might wind up cursing myself. And while I can't say I aint itchin' to try out them new chemicals ... then again," he scratched at his cheek, "can't say I'm lookin' to prep another young woman for burial."

"Reckon you'll have more customers than you can handle here soon; you see the way all them carriages and ox carts were racing through the plaza this morning? Pfft … damn near took out three vendors in one go-"

"From your lips to the ears of the gods," Genma said with a wink. "Startin' to think folks round here were stayin' alive just to spite me."

 **8:15 am:** Not far from the mortuary, a detachment of mounted patrolmen stands near the wharf, ready to receive final inspection and instruction. They were to position themselves on either side of a fleet of shiny black and gold carriages pulled by teams of blue roan horses. The visiting dignitaries were to be guarded as they attend a welcome breakfast at the Governor's private residence. From there, they would conduct them safely along paved back roads to the grand estate in the north.

 **8:43 am** \- Hatake manor: In the reception area, left of the grand foyer, huge silver chafing dishes are situated at precise intervals atop long buffet tables; lavender scented steam fills the entire first floor as household servants run hot heavy irons over tablecloths and napkins of the finest woven linens. Upstairs in the grand ballroom, the morning sun casts prismatic kaleidoscopes against ivory colored walls as it reflects through sixteen leaden crystal chandeliers. Gilt chairs occupy their appointed places alongside refreshment tables which square off the room's four corners. Near sparkling glass doors leading out to a wraparound balcony, sleepy eyed musicians gather for the first of many rehearsals. With one pencil tucked behind his ear and another attached to the clipboard in his hand, majordomo Kinoe is a blur. One minute he's outside, verifying newly delivered supplies in the staging areas or writing out chits for delivery men; the next, he's maintaining peace inside the kitchens or attending the comfort of guests already in residence.

But in the manor's subterranean vaults, all is quiet.

The potion for those set to patrol the grounds this evening stands ready; the Yasha have dispersed, leaving behind a grumbling Maito to tidy up the work area. At the sound of heavy footsteps, he turns suddenly, sweeping the mixing bowl off the table as he does. "My lord!"

Jiraiya was beside him in an instant, the tumbling mortar caught in his hand ere it smashed to the ground. "Little off your game this morning eh, Maito?"

"Yes sir ... sorry. The master's power, it thrums through the walls, shaking the floors with a violence unaccustomed. It's wrath unquenched I say … never experienced anything like this before."

"Well, son," Jiraiya chuckled as he strode to the other side of the apothecary cabinet, "that's because, this isn't your master's power. This 'wrath' as you call it … belongs to Kama." Carefully he sat the mortar down, running his finger around the bowl's rim as he spoke. "The deeper the master slips into slumber, the higher Kama's power ascends. And as it extends beyond the manor walls, it will paint the forests with a thick blue mist, drawing gaki within a hundred-mile radius and laying them under its thrall."

"Is this not desirable, my lord?"

"Not sure. Last time there was a blood moon, Kama went on a rampage. If lord Hatake cannot harness his urges, he'll be unable to control renegade gaki. Yep, we might a have full-scale slaughter fest on our hands. Speaking of which, your master's mark glows beneath the flesh of several mortals in the territory. What plans has he for them?"

"I do not know, sir."

"Well, has he claimed the next bridesmaid?"

"Not yet, nor have I received instructions in that regard for this evening."

"Troublesome news on many fronts," Jiraiya said, reaching into a ruck of his obi. "He'll listen to reason once he feeds ... I hope. So, it's settled, until the sacrifice is claimed, I will remain at master's elbow tonight. Now then, as for these … keep them on your person at all times," he warned, laying four vials onto the cabinet's surface.

Maito nodded, depositing the small glass containers in his pocket.

"This potion must be administered quickly and under the right conditions. If we can manage that, it will amplify Kama's strength in the master, while negating Lady Mari's influence over him."

"Conditions, my lord?"

"These vials must not be mixed until ready for consumption, nor are they to be administered during any phase of a full moon. Last and most importantly, master must refrain from tasting the blood of any human with whom he shares a soul tie."

"I don't foresee a problem with that sir. The bridesmaids are merely sustenance and I know for certain, master would never allow himself to-"

"Correction, Maito … _we_ must never allow him. This ... Umino Iruka," he sneered, "is destined to become a servant to house Hatake, as his father was to lord Sakumo. Unfortunately, an ill-advised friendship with Umino Tadashi, tainted Sakumo's judgment and took the edge off his killing instincts, therefore I charge you, Maito ... see to it the son does not repeat the mistakes of the father. You must do everything in your power to ensure their interactions never progress beyond ruler and subject. We clear on that?"

"Of course, sir."

"Master must remain pure until his coronation. However, should Kama within him grow impatient, you may be called upon to physically restrain the master from time to time." Jiraiya rested his palms on either side of the cabinet's top, "What am I saying? Your resolve is weak, you fear your master's displeasure more than you care for his well-being. How could I possibly trust you to protect him from himself?  No," he sadly shook his head, "there's no other way round it. Effective immediately, I will take your place as his right hand--"

"Over my cold dead body" came the growled reply, as a partially transformed Maito's claws scraped against Jiraiya's throat. "In all my years of existence, never have I raised my voice, much less, my hand to the master. But if it means furtherance of his plans ... I will do whatever it takes, up to and including ... killing you."

It was but for a moment, long enough to gauge the other creature's reaction as Jiraiya transformed in kind. After a frightful display of his own power, he resumed human form as he stepped back with a hearty laugh. "Willing to go up against me to save your master? Impressive. But, if you betray my trust, I will strike you down without mercy."

 **9:35 am** \- Morning call inside the constabulary: A hush falls over the room as Ryota clambered atop his desk. "We've a cluster of foreign dignitaries just arrived, all of them bearing precious gifts and in the crowds of tourists lurk nefarious criminals. Lest we forget, there's still a mad dog killer on the loose. Slacken not vigilance men … Konoha's reputation rests on your shoulders."

With fifteen hours left on the magistrate's orders, Ibiki stands on the training grounds east of the constabulary. Before him are seventy uniformed officers and one hundred fifty deputized civilians. "By now," he roared, "all of you should know what Dr. Iruka Umino and his friends look like. You are to detain and search them before they enter house Hatake. If they are found in possession of anything which can be used as a weapon … arrest them immediately. And should they be foolish enough to resist arrest … the use of deadly force is authorized. Now, get outta my sight, get some rest and remember … no alcoholic beverages whatsoever until your shift is over.

Dismissed."

Notes:

I was a huge fan of the original _Iron Chef;_ I wonder how many readers will catch the references. Hint, hint ... Iron Chef French was one of my faves.

"Cold cook": archaic slang for an undertaker.

Roan: having the base color of red, black or brown muted and lightened by an admixture of white hairs; a horse with intermixed white and colored hairs of any color. Blue roan is a true roan on a black coat. The mane, tail, head and legs remain black, while the body takes on a grayish or bluish appearance.

Kiriko: traditional technique of cutting glass, developed in 1834, fostered in the urban culture among townspeople. During the Meiji era, the craft introduced Western equipment and instruments. Beautifully designed glass art, the patterns are carved on the surface of a multi-layered glass so users can enjoy both the transparency and the design. Most designs were based on historical Japanese illustrations and patterns. Very expensive.

A sake set consists of the flask and the cups used to serve the beverage. Sake sets are commonly ceramic, but they can also be made of wood, lacquered wood, or glass. The server of a sake set is a flask called a _tokkuri_ which is generally bulbous with a narrow neck, but it may have a variety of other shapes, including that of a spouted serving bowl. Sake used to be sold by volume in a wooden box measuring cup, which was in turn, used to drink it. The wooden box was said to complement traditionally brewed sake, as it is brewed in a wooden cask.

Kenbishi sake: renown as the first branded sake brewery in Japan; established in 1505. In days of old, Kenbishi was a very popular sake enjoyed by samurai. On the eve of major military battles, a large Kenbishi barrel would be ceremoniously opened. It was believed that sake strengthened the bonds of friendship and established strong loyalty in upcoming battles.

 


	32. Time Keeps on Tickin' Part Two

**Recherché**

_Early afternoon, day of the soiree; somewhere in Water Country._

Uchiha Fugaku, a man renown as a consummate negotiator and excellent judge of horse flesh; he needed not the empty words of soothsayers.  Yet simply because this ridiculous ritual lent comfort to his wife, he deigns allow it.  And so, with a nod of his head, their prognostications he accepted with grace. _What a colossal waste of time_ , he thought, as three sour looking old men in funny hats pranced about the carriage after anointing him with aromatic oils.

“The alignment of stars augurs a journey successful,” he remembered them saying. “The constellations herald an event momentous which will alter the course of family history.”

 _For once, those crazy old men spoke truth,_ he thinks, as the carriage lurches forward on the return trip. _History shall record this journey as the genesis of a powerful dynasty._ _Through my sons and their sons after them, our name shall endure to a thousand generations._

And now with thirty-seven miles betwixt his entourage and Konoha’s northwestern border, Fugaku ponders a future bright. Into the embrace of sumptuous upholstery he sinks, his thoughts drifting to journey’s end; surrounded by a loving family, their eyes alight with pride as the master plan for a legacy everlasting is unveiled. Slack hands lay atop the solander in his lap, as ruminations fanciful skip further ahead.  His eyes slip closed as Fugaku settles in, envisioning that special time tonight, when the household lay quiet, as the lamps are extinguished in the secret of his bedchamber. The light of the full moon, illumining soft curves and needy hands; pillows of silk, wantonly adorned with the unbound ebony hair of his love most true. There in the shelter of devotion unbridled will coherent thought cease and senses overwhelm manners.  There would he drink his fill of velvety supple lips and perfumed bosoms, until the night air becomes thick with huffed noises of pleasure and pain and the musky fragrance of arousal transcends eloquence.

_Ah yes … tonight.  All hail the conquering hero indeed._

From imaginings pleasant is he jostled, an unanticipated yaw sending the solander crashing to the floor.  Yet ere his ire rises, the carriage resumes its comforting rock and sway. Gilt edged pedigrees strewn about his feet, are carefully gathered and tucked away. For now _,_ a clitter of iron stirrups, the rumble of wooden wheels and the clatter of hoofbeats upon worn earthen paths will suffice as his concerto of victory.  Once more he leans back, a fey grin cemented upon his lips.  Eyelids heavy with fatigue he permits succumb to gravity’s persistent tugs; as slumber’s silken cords bind him, a proud chin dips toward chest.

**Recherché**

 “Oi! You gonna sleep your life away, Ruka?”

Scarcely a proper shield against afternoon light, the lump beneath the covers shifts as it pulls the thin sheet over his face.   “Five more minutes.”

“Nothing doing. Look alive,” he said clapping his hands above Iruka’s ear.

“Tetsu, you do realize that’s irritating, right?”

“Is it?  Well, how bout this,” he asked, poking his finger into the drowsy man’s arm, “is this more, or less irritating than the clapping?”

Iruka inched away pleading as he went, “Can’t you leave me be for just ten more minutes? I promise--”

“Nope," he laughed as the poking resumed, "time’s a wastin,’ I’ll have no more of your promises.  Come along, rise and shine, up and at ‘em …  and all that.”

“We’ve four hours before we need to be anywhere,” Iruka mumbles, "fifteen more minutes can't possibly be a damage.”

"Enough of your sass!  Here’s the deal, I’m going to the kitchen and if you aint up when I get back... you’ll regret it.” 

“Yes, yes, whatever you say my tocsin most beneficent.”

“Hey! Name calling makes it worse, Ruka.”

**Recherché**

_E_ _arly afternoon, day of the soiree; the woods of Konoha_ _  
_

In the forests, warm, still and quiet, he feels them; their presence strong and cold as they measure his steps from encampments hidden.  Behind stands of wild grasses, from the hollows of trees long decayed, they watch.  A contrary wind whistles through the branches and once more, Izumo sharply turns, ducking behind a tree and scanning the landscape; again, there is nothing to see.  Stomping through a cluster of toadstools, he steps back onto the path.  Still his eyes dart hither and yon even as he bends down to retrieve the bundle by his feet. 

 _A grown man_ _hiding from shadows like a scared child. Come now,_ he scolds himself _, this is ridiculous!_  

Still, every skitter of leaves and each crunch of twigs beneath his feet forces him cast furtive glances o’er his shoulder.  He quickens the pace along the foot worn path thinking _,_

_Am I surprised conscience buffets me? To his face, I give meaningless affirmations of confidence; behind his back, I am in league with a stranger, plotting ways to test his mental competence. May the gods protect me until I can properly confess._

As he scurries along the path, massive black bodies are zigzagging through marshes damp; their glistening eyes recording the distance remaining to his destination, their hairless tails, telegraphing data to their brethren just ahead.

**Recherché**

As Fugaku falls deeper into sleep, memory doth rehearse itself.  Striding down a torch lit corridor, he sees himself ushered into the arena of battle.  Standing tall and proud, his expression never changing, even as he hears them whispering behind their hands.

 _“Surely this old man isn’t the pigeon,”_ they said. “ _If he is, then what a letdown; almost like stealing a baby’s candy.”_

Others spoke out boldly, pity dripping as honey from their lips, “Now, now,” said they, “mayhaps this old timer has wandered into the wrong room.  Go on then, show him a kindness and direct him elsewhere.”  One dared draw close, taunting as he squatted down to say, “Oi, jiji, you’re in the wrong place.  This is a serious meeting, one that will likely drag on past your bedtime.  What say you shuffle off to a waiting rocking chair, eh?”

With a sly chuckle does he lean forward, elbows pressed to the table, fingers steepled before his lips as the door behind him opens. There’s a scuff of soft slippers as the elders enter the hall; conversation ceases as everyone, except Fugaku, leaps from their seats.

The elders fall to their knees, in anguish they cry out, “Lord Uchiha of Konoha.  May the gods have mercy upon us!  Our sons are brainless seed of vapid women; they had no idea to whom they were speaking. Please my lord, lay not to our charge this great dishonor.”

A wave of his hand silences the flood of apologies and bitter regret of the angry young men as they are escorted from the room. And in the end, without much effort on his part, Fugaku walks away with more than expected … six for the price of three. 

As another slow smile tracks over his lips, beyond the quiet environs of the carriage, rapid hoof beats and loud voices joggle him awake.

“My lord,” shouts his captain, “twenty riders under banner approach!  The rearguard has advanced and the archers have taken up their positions.”

At once, the solander is thrown into a concealed compartment, beneath which Fugaku extracts a pearl hilt tanto. 

_So, they’ve come to take what is rightfully mine, have they?_

_Time to show them what this old man is made of._

  **Recherché**

_E_ _arly afternoon, day of the soiree; the cabin in the woods_ _  
_

Twice came rebuffs couched with lopsided snickers and slurred refusals; there would not be a third time.  Snatching away the thin sheet, Kotetsu leans down, a pitcher of cold water hovering inches above Iruka’s forehead.

“Either get up or get doused … it's your choice sleeping beauty.”

Beneath him, heavy eyelids flutter open; he finds it difficult distinguishing between the pitcher’s bottom and the arm that held it.  Closing his eyes once more, Iruka mumbles, “Well then, I choose five more minutes.”

“Wrong response and you know why,” he said inching the container closer.  “When your cousin gets here and finds us screwing around, he's gonna whinge about it all night.”

“I think not, Tetsu,” he said with a languid stretch and slow-moving smile. “Once he sees how relaxed I am, he’ll be pleased.”

“Are you kiddin’ me?  Zumo is a man obsessed with punctuality and responsibility. For goodness sake, he posts daily chore lists and timetables all over the cabin--”

“Surely, he’ll make an exception for me, ‘sides,” he said reaching for the sheet, “I never woulda done this if you hadn’t talked me into it.”

“And if I’d known you were gonna act like this, I never woulda suggested it.  Now, are you gonna get up or what?”

Iruka scooched further away from the droplets of cold water dripping on his forehead. “Fine … I’m up!  Happy now?”

“Not yet.  Up means eyes open and feet on the floor--”

“Tetsu!  My sheets are already soaked with your sweat and now you literally intend to drown me? That’s hardly sporting--”  

“What about me, huh?”  With a bang, the pitcher slams down on the bedside table.  "I was sweatin’ like a farm animal cause I practically carried you all the way from town.  Sure I pulled a muscle too ... tryna get your clothes off, wrestlin’ ya into bed, not to mention, crawling out from under your solid weight--”

“Wait!  You sayin’ I’m fat?”  Iruka levered himself upward with a huff, “Need I remind you again that this was your idea?  And here I thought you were my good friend--”

“I’ll be your dearly departed, good friend if Zumo finds you lolling about, jelly boned and grinning like an idiot.”

“But, isn’t this,” he gestured to his torpid body, “what you hoped for when you took me--?”

“Actually, it was a thousand times better. It’s not every day the staid Dr. Umino gets kicked outta an establishment for lewd behavior--”

“Yes," he chuckled while drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them, " irony abounds.  A place like that, you'd think they'd be accustomed to loud grunts and moans--”

“Sounds of pleasure weren’t the problem… it was all that caterwaulin’ that did you in Ruka.”

“For the last time, Tetsu, I wasn’t that loud--”

“Wanna bet?  Hell, everybody in the joint knew you were gettin’ your kinks worked out--”

“You make it sound … scandalous.” Throwing aside the light sheet, he maneuvered himself to sit at the edge of the mattress.  “There was this large, angry man pounding away at my body, how was I supposed to respond?  And damned if didn't keep zeroing in on a small bundle of nerves in my … well, can’t say I remember much after he hit a certain spot--”

“Ruka, after a blood curdling yell, you passed out.  You know how embarrassing that was for me?”

“Indeed, what boorish behavior,” came the snide remark.  “I do hope forgiveness is within your reach.” 

Kotetsu thoughtfully stroked at his goatee, “Hmm ... it was funny as hell, Ruka so, I’ll give ya that.”

They looked to each other and burst out laughing.

“Sadder than anything,” Iruka said, “it’s been ages since anyone manipulated my body that way--”

“Explains why you’re such a tight ass all the time.”  

Stifling a yawn and stretching his arms above his head, Iruka landed a purposely accidental punch to Kotetsu’s shoulder.  “That last comment aside, reckon I am glad you talked me into it.” 

“Come again?  That kinda sounded like you were tryna say that when I’m right, I’m right … am I right?”

“Fine.  I'd forgotten how relaxing a soak in the hot springs and a massage could be, so thanks for suggesting it, okay?"

"Ah, there’s a good man; gratitude, looks good on ya Ruka.  Now let’s get moving.  You'll splash more cold water on your face, we'll get some hot tea in your belly and you'll be fine. Oh, and not a word of this to Zumo--" 

“We’ll have to say something eventually, after all, he holds the purse strings.  Man oh man, he's gonna pitch a fit when he finds how much money we--”

“Relax, I already got that bit sorted.  First, I tell him we went to the cathouse and then--”

“What?  Why would you--?”

“I know you chuckle heads better than you know yourselves, just trust there’s a method to the madness.  Zumo is as wound up about this 'maybe' meeting with Hatake as you are.  Sure, he’ll blow up, but letting him get it out of his system now benefits all of us in the long run.  We’ll be cool, calm and collected tonight, better able to focus on the matter at hand, you know … killing Hatake?”

 

Notes:

Deign _(obsolete):_ to condescend (to yield, assent).

Augur: to serve as an omen or promise of; foreshadow, betoken.

Tocsin: (archaic) for alarm bell.

Clitter: make a thin, vibratory rattling sound.

Yaw: temporary deviation from a straight course.

Jiji (Japanese): “old geezer.”


	33. Merriment, Mayhem and Murder

Four hours remain until the soiree officially kicks off.

With the guests attended to and the house set in order, Kinoe flops down on the bench at the foot of the master's upper bedchamber. Down below, inside the quiet vaults, Maito assembles the potions for the constables and readies the altar. And while lord Hatake seemingly lies in repose, a heated skirmish rages inside his body. Kama's power surging through his veins, hatred burns holes into the pit of his being, even as emotions foreign find new life inside a darkened corner of his heart.

**Recherché**

"… emissaries from the house of Tanaguchi. Prithee ask your master turn aside for a time of rest and replenishment."

As soon as Fugaku heard these words, the tanto slips back into its secret compartment. _If we tarry long,_ he thinks, _I risk needless worry for Mikoto. And if I refuse hospitality from the Tanaguchi, it would mark me a social pariah; Mikoto might not ever get over it and I can't have that._ Upon his say so are they escorted to the manor and treated as royalty. Water and provender for the horses was supplied upon arrival and after a sumptuous meal and good wine, Fugaku and his men are sent on their way with baskets overflowing with gifts for their loved ones.

**Recherché**

His body relaxed, the mental fog lifting after a second cup of tea, Iruka is still hitting a brick wall with his stubborn friend. "All I'm saying is, why waste time ambushing the man, when we can-?"

"I know what I'm doing 'kay, Ruka? All you hafta do is act embarrassed and keep your trap shut."

"I _am_ embarrassed … for you. Tell him the truth and be done with-"

At the sound of three sharp thumps, they look up from their tea.

"For the second time today," Kotetsu said as he stood, "I'm asking ya to trust me, can you do that?"

"Fine, but he's obviously got his hands full; can you at least be nice until he gets inside and drops his bags?"

"That's crazy talk. If I'm too nice, he'll know something is up."

With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, Iruka watched his friend stalk toward the door. "If I live a thousand years, I'll never understand how your mind works."

Kotetsu turns back for a moment, a devious grin in place and his eyes agleam. "Watch and learn, buddy, this is how me and Zumo have fun. Oi, Soup for brains, told ya we didn't need nothing else from the market… and you call _me_ hard headed?" Swinging the door open with a playful scowl, he barked,

"Who the hell are you?"

On the other side of the threshold stands a tall, clean scrubbed young man, dressed in a utilitarian long sleeved black shirt and hakama pants. Eighteen years old, if he was a day, his eyes innocent, the color of molten pitch; his features keen, and skin, paper white. _Not necessarily a threat, just weird lookin,'_ Kotetsu thinks as he assumes a defensive posture. "What you need, kid?"

The young man graciously bowed before him. "Good afternoon. I was hoping to speak with," he paused, glancing down at the paper in his hand, "Dr. Umino Iruka?"

"Say what now?"

"Who is it, Tetsu?"

"Hell if I know … some kid," he called over his shoulder, "probably got lost in the woods, looking for a handout or directions. _Yeah, but, how did this character know his name? Is he another one of Hatake's minions?_ When he heard Iruka rise from the table, he moved to shield this person from view. "Alright, state your business and make it snappy."

Iruka comes closer, trying to peer around him; his voice hopeful when he asked, "Sai … is that you?"

At the mention of his name, the young man brightened. "Yes sir?"

"It's okay, let him in Tetsu."

"What!? Have you lost your damn mind?" Puffing himself up, Kotetsu continues blocking the entrance with his body. "What if somebody followed him here?"

"I seriously doubt that, stop being ridicu-"

"Your friend is correct, Dr. Umino … I am being followed. By my reckoning, this man is about fifteen seconds behind me; I believe he's also a friend of yours-?"

"And how would you know who's what?" Kotetsu reached out, poking this Sai person in the chest, "you been spying on us or somethin'?"

"Yes and no," he politely responded, "you see-"

"I've heard enough, beat it punk!

"Tetsu, catch hold of yourself! Sai, come on in, it's alright, this one's bark is worse than his bite."

"True, but mine isn't," Izumo said as he stepped closer to their visitor. "Sorry Ruka, I'm with Tetsu on this one. I'd like to know how he found us before we just let him waltz in here. You workin' with or for Hatake, kid?"

"I have no idea what a Hatake is sir," he said turning slightly, "but I did have my friends keep watch over you these last days."

"That's it!" This time Kotetsu used the heel of his hand, forcibly pushing the young man backwards, while reaching around him to yank Izumo inside. Another push sent the would-be intruder sprawling. After poking his head outside and scanning the immediate area, he considered the young man's expressionless face. "Friends, eh? I don't see nobody but you-"

"Tetsu, stop it! Help him up."

"Not a chance … are you really that gullible? I mean, he could be anybody!"

Iruka finally succeeded at pulling him from the door frame and with a huff, he extends his hand, pulling Sai to his feet. "See here, I appreciate caution, but would you give us a chance to explain, please?"

Backing away from an angry Iruka, Izumo and Kotetsu exchange chary glances as their visitor steps over the threshold.

"This is my ace in the hole, the one I've been waiting for? My third cousin twice removed? Ring any bells, no? Then allow me to present, Shimizu Sai."

Kotetsu sucked at his teeth as he gave the young man the once over. "Seriously? This character is your guy, Ruka? Pfft … lot of help he's gonna be in a fight."

Once again, Sai bowed before answering. "I'm no fighter, Mr. Tetsu-"

"Yeah, I see that. Hell, it's a wonder you can even stand on your own, what with a gigantic scroll strapped to your back; damn thing probably weighs more than you do."

"And how is it," wondered Izumo, "nobody noticed him walking around town with that thing? That would have been a juicy bit of gossip … and I didn't hear anything about it while I was in the washerwomen's shop."

"That's because I never went into the town, sirs … well, not directly." He took a few steps forward as the others backed away. "When I arrived here a week ago, it was on the inside of a shipping crate, which was eventually offloaded in a barn near the silk mills. I slept there at night and spent my days scoping out vantage points in the forests near the-"

"So that's why you're so pale and scrawny. I bet he aint had a good meal since he got here. Fine, never let it be said that I aint got a heart. I don't mind feedin' ya, but you and your imaginary friends aint stayin' here, got it?"

"Tetsu!"

"What? Like we need a malnourished noncombatant to worry about-"

"Please sirs, I will not inconvenience you. And for the record, Mr. Tetsu, this is my normal appearance; my diet consisted of berries and fish from the streams-"

"Okay kid … you're resourceful, I'll give ya that. Still think you're a strange little fella."

"Let me handle this," Izumo chided, as he laid the package in his arms on the chair by the door. "Now then Sai, do tell how you found us."

"With pleasure, but I think comprehension will come quicker if you allow me to introduce my friends," he said, releasing the large scroll from his waist. "Gentlemen, would you mind standing over there, by the table?"

Izumo and Iruka struggle to pull a glaring Kotetsu away as Sai begins unfurling the scroll. Even before he stood erect, his fingers were flying through intricate signs, mouthing the words of what they assumed was a powerful incantation.

His hands stilled, the movement of his lips ceased, his eyes fluttered and then … nothing.

A few moments pass and still ... nothing.

Just as Kotetsu folded his arms across his chest and opened his mouth, they hear the noise of skittering against the cabin walls; quiet at first, it grows louder as the seconds tick past. Suddenly, a swarm of black mice begins squeezing themselves under the door, through the windows and in the middle of slats in the walls. Between one breath and the next, a writhing, squeaking blanket of rodents are blocking the only exit. Obediently do they line up before the scroll, their eyes fixed on their summoner. Sai bows his head and with a snap of his fingers, the vermin cannibalize one another until only a dozen large sewer rat looking things are left. These in turn waddle onto the blank paper; lying flat in five rows, they transform from animated creatures into flat, matte, two dimensional drawings. And as the stunned trio lets out a collective breath, Sai claps his hands over the scroll and the drawings become neatly printed Kanji.

"Hmm," he said, "I see you've traveled a great deal since arriving in Konoha; the wharf, an inn, the constabulary, Administrative complex, the Fire Temple--"

"Good god! He's a witch!"

"Oh no, Mr. Tetsu, female workers of magic are witches and men are warlocks; I am simply an artist with special abilities. And to answer your question Mr. Zumo, I took the letter Dr. Umino sent and fed pieces of it to the mice while I was in the barn. The style of his writing and the pressure exerted by his palm on the paper … that's what led my friends to your location."

"Neat trick for finding living, breathing humans kid," snapped Kotetsu, "but what we're looking for is a demon. How do you and your little 'friends' propose to do that smart ass?"

"Tetsu!"

"I don't know what the hell he's talking about--"

"Perhaps if you let me finish this time, sir, you won't be as confused."

"Why you little-"

"Hush now," Iruka said, "go on Sai."

He inclined his head and continued, "Every being leaves behind traces of their aura wherever they go, and every aura is unique. With me so far, Mr. Tetsu?"

"Quit callin' me that, kid … name's Kotetsu."

"Alright, and you may call me Sai."

"You're itchin' for a rap in the mouth, aren't ya punk?"

"Calm down slugger."

"Thank you, Mr. Zumo … as I was saying, everything has an aura, even gaki. They leave behind slime deposits, indiscernible to humans, but my mice are trained to see and track them. Spirits are trickier since they aren't much more than vapor, however, all vapor dissipates into the atmosphere and eventually settles on the flora and fauna. When the mice eat the leaves, blades of grass or flower stems, they digest that information and can distinguish for me what type of spirit has frequented the area."

"So, what? Hatake aint gonna be afraid of no mice."

"Right, but chances are, he won't be suspicious of them either," Izumo said. "All we need do is match the floor plans we already have with the information the mice provide to Sai and then bingo bango … the location of Hatake's lair is at our fingertips."

"I don't know. This kid is a mystic or somethin,' what if Hatake figures out his mice are magic things too? What's stopping him from tracing the mice back to this weird guy and turning him against us?"

"Absolutely nothing. But like the three of you, I also possess powerful talismans.  I assure you, no demon or Hatakes will come near me."

"Bully for you, kid."

"Yes … bully. In my treks through the forests, I discovered a massive buildup of spiritual energy centered in the north, near the cemetery. The past few days it's been flowing like a river through the town, but just last night it started raging like a flood, which leads me to believe the demon you're hunting is enthroned nearby."

"The full moon is supposed to be closer to earth tonight," Iruka confirmed, "makes sense."

"I'd already planned to set up camp in the forests beyond the cemetery, so I can keep an eye on activity in that area. If you’d like, Dr. Umino, I can send updates to you via messenger-"

"Can't you draw anything aside from creepy little mice?"

"I'll be happy to draw birds or butterflies, or are you fearful of them as well, Mr. Tetsu?"

"Look ya little jackass-"

"Idle your engine," Izumo said as he physically held his friend in check. "Sai is gonna make things easier for us, least you could do 'Mr. Tetsu,' is be gracious."

**Recherché**

_Day of the event, 5:00pm: Governor Senju's private residence._

Turning her toward the vanity, the hairdresser held her breath as Lady Tsunade evaluates the image in the mirror. "Looks good," she said at last. "I should be back by half past seven. Until then ladies, she's all yours to pluck, powder and primp as you please. There now, Shizune, don't look so frightened-"

"I appreciate all you've done ma'am, but this is so-"

"Hush. You deserve a little pampering; relax and enjoy yourself … that's an order."

**Recherché**

_Day of the event, 5:15pm: Inside the constabulary_

A crisply pressed dress uniform hangs on the coat rack near the door, silently does it mock and judge him. A too many times folded arrest warrant lies in the center of his desk, beside an impossibly pristine invitation; one shaming, the other emboldening. He'd raced here hoping to find sanctuary in controlled chaos, alas all was quiet and calm; no pressing paperwork requiring his attention or signature and no interruptions to derail his train of thought.

_Time running out;_ _I gotta little bit of everything … and a whole lot of nothing._

He leaned to the side, his arm swinging limply as he fumbled about for the release lever on the bottom desk drawer. Relieved when at last his fingertips bump against cool glass, a shaky hand grabs hold the prize. _Been years since our lips met. Didn't think I'd need you again this soon._ A half empty bottle of whiskey settles with a thump and welcome slosh between the warrant and the invite. His mouth twitches into a grin as the cork slides loose, its aroma biting at his nose. _Shit … hafta remain clear headed, but I sure as hell don't want to._ With an exhalation of regret is the bottle returned to its hiding place and in one fell swoop, the two pieces of paper find their way into a breast pocket. He rises with resolve renewed, forcing one foot in front of the other until he can snatch the uniform from its hook and head down the quiet hallway.

"Ah, I was just thinking to send someone after you; it's gettin' late," Ryota said when Ibiki paused before his desk. "Been a helluva day, we had fifty civilian volunteers sign up. Already deputized 'em ... figured they could help patrol the docks and monitor the taverns tonight. What say you, Inspector?"

"Huh? Umm, yeah that's fine. Frees up more officers."

"Same thing I thought. I've tasked the mounted patrol to increase surveillance around the manor homes, Aoba and his men are already in place and that detachment should be near house Hatake by now."

"You buckin' for a promotion or somethin'?"

"Nope, just doing my job, making sure you have less to worry about this evening. But if you insist on authorizing a bonus for me, who am I to argue?  Pretty sure the forms are somewhere in all this clutter-"

"I don't really want to do this, Ryota."

"So that's the way of it huh, don't think I deserve--?"

"Relax old man, I’m talking about this … party thing."

"Then think of tonight as an investigation," he said, while rummaging through one of his desk drawers. "You’re going there to gather information, that’s all.  Some of your best men are gonna be there to assist with the gathering of intelligence and I'll catch you up later." As the authorization found its way toward Ibiki's hand, he added, "Sign this first. I gotta get these new figures to the Comptroller before six thirty, elsewise these chits won't be worth the paper they're written on."

Ibiki chuckled as the pen was pressed into his hand. "Because you've left me no other reason to hang around here and wrangled a bonus outta me, I best leave now, before I’m tricked into something else.  Reckon I oughta head to the barber, make myself presentable--"

"Heya Ryota … Inspector," says Genma as he sidles up to the Watch Commander's desk.   "Couldn't help overhearing, you know, I could shave ya myself, Inspector … no charge."

Ibiki didn't bother looking up to wisecrack, "I'm not that cheap.  Nothing personal, Genma, but shaving is the one activity I like being vertical for."

"Got it," he chuckled, "meanwhile, you gents still taking volunteers?"

"We're all full up," Ryota said, "sorry."

“I see, well, if you need somebody to, you know … fetch dinner, file paperwork, empty the bins or somethin' ... I'm available."

"Ryota, leave a note to that effect for the night commander."

"I don’t care what anybody says about you Inspector, you're okay in my book.  Right then, I’m off. Reckon I'll see ya round."

They watch in silence as the dejected man shuffles out the door.

"Talk about off?  Can't remember the last time I saw him so depressed, you Ibiki?"

"Nah, but between you, me and the lamppost, I hope he has reason to stay like that for a few days."

**Recherché**

_Day of the event, 5:37 pm: Inuzuka compound_

Soon would the sun set, as if it mattered to the ranch hands and farmers standing in the line which extended from the barn door to the front gate.

"Damn it man," Tsume fussed as she strode toward him, "thought you asked the Governor to send-?

"Quit your griping woman!" The crowded barn fell silent as Idate rose from his seat. "These people need our help and by god … we're gonna do what we can, with what we have, understand? Now, get back to work!"

Eyes wide and mouth agape, a stunned Tsume takes two steps forward and one step back while Idate reclaims the overturned chair. Terrified workers peel their backs from the barn's walls, scurrying hither and yon to complete their assigned duties. Only Hana dares approach him from behind, her arms falling around his neck as she plants a kiss on his cheek.

"I like it when you're so forceful, dearest," she whispers.

"I know," he said with a smile, "and we both know there's gonna be hell to pay around the dinner table this evening."

With a blush rising in her cheeks, Hana further lowered her voice, "No doubt, but I promise to make it all better … tonight."

**Recherché**

_Day of the event, 6:00pm: Outside the Administrative complex_

Amulets stuffed into every available pocket and shoved inside their socks, three nattily dressed young men await transportation.

"A soak and a massage," Izumo said, "why didn't I think of that?"

"Cause I'm an unsung genius," Kotetsu boasted. "How many times do I hafta tell ya?"

Izumo left off an answer as a stately vehicle pulled round the corner. "Moment of truth gents," he whispered, "ready?"

"Me, I was born ready-"

"Okay, just remember Tetsu, we're supposed to gather information and show ourselves friendly; don't start nothin,' we clear?"

"You suck the"f" outta fun, you know that Zumo?"

**Recherché**

_Day of the event, 6:15pm: Kokucho manor_

"Your guests have safely arrived, my lord and are enjoying refreshments in the salon."

His master absently runs his fingers over the strings of a cherished violin, never turning about to face his servant.  “What a tragic headline … three members of the Advisory Council taking a twenty-minute ride to the Hatake gala ...  all dead on arrival," he sighed.  "Still, I’ll put on a brave face, my heart heavy, as I muddle through tonight’s festivities. What think you, Kabuto? In such a small amount of time, can I possibly muster sufficient shock and dismay at their passing?" 

"I have no doubt … no one could do it better than you, lord Orochimaru. Now, you will excuse me, I've left a completely stocked sweets table at the mercy of an Akimichi." As Kabuto turned about, the smug grin melted from his lips when he saw the door handle's slow downward turn.

"Aha," said Danzou as he entered the conservatory, "knew you'd be hiding in here."

"Naturally, we are but creatures of habit, old friend. You know well a bit of music calms me before large gatherings and I know, listening to me play calms you as well. Go now Kabuto, attend the comfort of my other dear friends…. we'll be along directly."”

 "As you wish, my lord."

Orochimaru waits until the door clicks closed before turning himself about. "This night will be filled with merriment and dancing, yet at this very moment, my soul cries out for something melancholy. You think that strange, lord Danzou?"

"Not in the least, for that would have been my request, had you not spoken it first."

"Come then … take a seat at my right hand."

Solemnly does Orochimaru position the instrument atop his shoulder, his eyes slipping closed as bow skids over strings. Music mournful, reverberates inside the room, and as the final notes hang in the air, Danzou draws in a breath. 

"Splendid!  You know," he said reaching inside the sleeve of his kimono, "I've been meaning to give these to you for ages. Another gift for your collection."

Orochimaru reverently lays aside the violin, taking hold the proffered package with both hands. Unwrapping the silken pouch with care, his fingers gingerly run the length of the prize contained therein. "My word," he breathed, "a shakuhachi … fingering chart and notations? I didn't think these still existed."

"Well they were hard to come by, yet I searched high and low for a special gift to celebrate our friendship. Do they not please you?"

"It is your generosity that leaves me humbled … and speechless. These shall have places of honor among my growing Danzouana," he replied, heading toward a glass encased cabinet on the other side of the room.

Danzou rose, following close behind him. "There's something else I must share.   I've given our last conversation a great deal of thought and as usual … you're right. Once we force that Senju woman from office, only one of us is fit to become the next Governor of the territory."

"Is that so? What a relief to know you've finally come to your senses," Orochimaru said while covertly palming one of the ornamental daggers from the cabinet.

"Yes, and that one man ... is me, old friend."

He turned slowly, wanting to look his friend in the eyes for the last time. A soundless scream freezes on his face as lancinating pain spreads through his midsection; there's a look of shock and betrayal in his eyes as the knife twists and turns, tearing through the greater omentum, puncturing intestines and lacerating his stomach. Danzou's grin stretches wider as he maneuvers the knife forward and backward, slicing up the liver of his closet friend.

"And so, it ends," Orochimaru manages as the knife retracts, only to plunge itself deep into the side of his neck. "I'll see you in hell!"

No sooner does he crumple to the floor the clock chimes the half hour and Danzou falls to his knees beside him. _And now for the rest,_ he thinks as the bloody tanto slips back inside his sleeve.

Unbeknownst to him, Kabuto was standing in the center of the room; the tea set and heavy silver platter crashing to the floor as he ran to his master's aid.

"My god! What happened?"

“Stupid argument," Danzou splutters as he attempts to stand, "he pulled a knife … tried to take it from him; quickly now, fetch a doctor!"

Having seen the blood soaking into the rug, the stunned servant took off running for the exit. Danzou stayed where he was, looking down into the unseeing eyes of the man he shared half his life with.  Suddenly he hears the footfalls of an enraged Kabuto running full tilt toward him. He can't move fast enough to evade the long blade before it runs through the space between his shoulder blades. A final breath catches in his throat as he hears Kabuto say, "That's for my master, and this," he shouts as the blade forces itself through the pericardium of a still beating heart, "this one's for me."

In the stillness of the room, it takes a moment before reality becomes clear.

Kabuto kneels, checking the master's pulse, finding none, he gentles closes Orochimaru's lifeless eyes.  Using the hem of Danzou's kimono, he wipes clean the bloodied blade. His breathing settles to normal as he stands; a single tear streaking down his cheek. The katana, which he didn't remember from whence it came nor how it found its way into his hand, falls free of his grasp, landing atop the rug without a sound.  Carefully does he check his clothing for traces of blood before slowly walking away. Arriving in the salon, he's the epitome of a polished liar as he tells the other guests, "I'm afraid lords Orochimaru and Danzou have been unavoidably detained. Nonetheless, my master prays you avail yourselves of the carriage."  He forced a smile as he stood in the open front door, a cheery wave he gives as the Akimichi and the Nara are sent off into the darkness of their last night on earth. Ascending the quiet staircase to the master's bedchamber, his thoughts turn to his own security and safety.  Leaving the manor for the final time, his heart as heavy as the valise stuffed with cash and gold coins, Kabuto makes his way from the kitchen entrance to the stables.  Saddling up one of the master's prized mares, he vanishes into the woods.

 

**Recherché**

6:47 pm: The master of the manor, Lord Hatake, rises from slumber as the moon begins its ascent.

The death toll stands at two … for now.

Notes:

Primp: to dress or groom with meticulous or excessive attention to detail.

Lancinating: characterized by a piercing or stabbing sensation.

Shakuhachi: An end blown flute originally introduced from China into Japan during the 6th century; traditionally made of bamboo. It was primarily used by the monks of the Fuke sect of Zen Buddhism. Their songs, paced according to the players' breathing, were considered meditation as much as music. Beginning in 1868, the playing of the shakuhachi was officially forbidden for a few years, however, when the Meiji government did permit the playing of shakuhachi again, it was only as an accompanying instrument to certain stringed instruments.

-ana: a suffix that forms collective nouns denoting an assembly of items, as household objects, art, books, or maps, or a description of such items, as a bibliography, all of which are representative of or associated with the place, person, or period named by the stem.

Greater omentum: a large, apron like fold of the peritoneum (a serous membrane that forms the lining of the abdominal cavity; it covers the organs and serves as a passageway for blood and lymphatic vessels and nerves), it extends from the greater curve of the stomach, passes in front of the small intestines and doubles back to ascend to the transverse colon before it reaches back to the posterior abdominal wall.


	34. More Merriment, Mayhem and Murder

**Recherché**

"Please, help me."

Into a life of service was he born, no other existence he knew; the overflowing valise, his ticket to a better life. He had the wits to play the role of an eccentric mountebank, but he'd lost the heart. What he needed was time … time to empty his head of the grotesque images left behind on the conservatory floor … time to organize his thoughts, to determine a new identity for himself.

"Please, help me."

Every estate had two parcels of land designated as escape routes, accessible either through underground tunnels or through a maze of timber adjacent the property; one led to the northern border, the other southeast to the sea shores. His course was plotted ere they turned onto the ancient path; they'd weave through the forests, hiding in shadows cast by moon beams filtering through the trees.

"Please, help me."

Broadcast from parts unknown, the discontinuous supplications echoed the cry of his heart; ignore them he must, his survival imperative. Kabuto was a man at ill liberty, one without a home, a purpose and now … without a country. Convinced it was only his mind playing tricks, he spurs the horse onward, faster and faster they fly along well trampled paths; still, the voice outside him grows in its urgency and volume.

"Please, help me."

Ahead in the clearing stands a woman, a reddish mist swirling about her feet. Her clothing suggests she hails from a noble house though she sways undignified, as a common woman bereft, her head and arms lifted to the heavens, shamelessly imploring the gods:

"Please, help me."

Curious, he turns the horse aside when suddenly, the woman fell to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks, her body trembling as if she might break in half.

So beautiful her pain, so exquisite her torture, he cannot look away.

Cautious, he brings the horse to halt not more than twenty paces from where she knelt. Better judgment thrown to the winds, he calls,

"What ails you woman?"

His presence and question the woman does not acknowledge, instead her mournful entreaty continues unabated.

"Please, help me."

He thinks to continue onward, to quit this place at once … again, he cannot. Closer and closer he comes, stopping only when he sees four more women emerge from the woods, each one as beautiful as the first, the same reddish mist swirling about their feet and clad in robes identical; each of them chanting the same refrain.

"Please, help me."

They come together in the clearing, falling to their knees, their voices in unison. The ground beneath his mount rumbles, sinking inward upon itself; twisted roots and whistling vines, spring up through soft loam, rapidly do they wind themselves about his paralytic body. His mount hobbled, they crash to the ground. Anon do the women trap him in their sights as the chorus reaches a crescendo, the lyric altered a whit, the women rise together; sinuously do they inch toward him, their voices blending as one.

"Help us please."

Alas, vigor has forsaken him as he makes a vain attempt at freedom. Helpless, he watches the vines and roots squeeze life and breath from his mount. Panic overtakes him, yet the scream he hears inside his head, never finds its way past his lips. It seems but an instant before the women are upon him as lionesses encircling their prey.

"Help us carry out the will of our Master."

Their cries of pain turn to derisive laughter as they fall upon him; their beautiful faces taking on the appearance of shrunken skulls, their voluptuous bodies melting before his eyes, as the women become corpulent masses of shimmering green, oozing putrid yellow slime. Their eyes, blood red and with fangs bared, they rip and tear into his flesh and that of his mount.

**Recherché**

And the death toll stands at three.

Between greeting and announcing incoming guests, Kinoe makes time to serve tea to those constables charged with guarding the interior and front lawns of the estate. Maito also busies himself, delivering the same potion laden refreshment to Ibiki's men hidden in the forests. Knowing the potion will do no permanent or traceable harm to the men, Kinoe and Maito smile through their respective amusement and ire. Apart from rendering them incapable of recognizing or preventing Dr. Umino and friends, tomorrow will these men awaken, slightly groggy, their memories partially infarcted.

"How did you know where to find us?"

was the oft asked question of the evening and Maito's response never varied. "I was blessed with a keen sense of smell which my master harnesses for the amusement of his guests," he said time and again. "Lord Hatake would be honored if you fine officers partook of this, a small token of his gratitude and hospitality."

**Recherché**

The carriage bearing the banner of house Kokucho finally pulls to the front of the line; it's driver hurriedly alighting his perch.

"Quickly," he calls to a nearby uniformed officer, "my passengers … something is terribly wrong!"

Running to the carriage, the patrolman finds two men clutched in death's icy throes, their faces purple, lips cyanotic. Commandeering the vehicle, he crazily steers it down the steep driveway, racing toward the now shuttered Coroner's office.

**Recherché**

And the death toll stands at five.

This early in the evening and the plaza was jammed with people, as were the shorelines. Even the grassy knolls were running out of available space. Vendors didn't seem to mind the press and the shops along the avenues were still doing brisk business at this late hour. _Good for them_ , he thought, but what he didn't see was the usual group of opportunists normally drawn to large gatherings. _No need for concern, just trust that my men and their deputies are on their toes tonight._

As he worked his way through the throng of revelers, many of them turned to offer up limp fingered salutes as they stepped out of his way, others oohed and aahed as he passed by. There was no denying he cut an impressive figure … towering over pleasantly tipsy party goers in a dress uniform that pinched a tad round the middle still, they may have been angling away because he reeked of bay rum. Their motives mattered little to Ibiki.

 _Damn wiseacre tourists,_ he thought as the crowd bobbled and weaved about him.

He turned a deaf ear to the catcalls and whistles coming from the front door and open windows of the constabulary as he finally made it to the stables. But he could scarcely hold back a chuckle when Mayonaka was lead out; a highly polished saddle, an ornately plaited mane and his silver studded bridle, shining like new money. "Now I don't feel so bad," he said, "you look as silly as I do."

Mayonaka shook his head and began walking back toward an open field behind the stable.

"Okay, get back here. Look," he confided as he grabbed the reins, "I didn't wanna get all gussied up either, but like it or not, we've gotta do what we gotta to get the job done. But what say we kill some time first? We could drop by the morgue... see Genma; he always has treats for ya?"

Another shake of Mayonaka's head nixed that idea.

"Alright, how bout we run by the docks, see how the men are faring?" Once again, Mayonaka turned to walk away. "I get it, you don't wanna be seen by your stable mates and I don't wanna hang around here any longer either. I've got another idea, trust me on this one. There's a good man." Sitting tall in the saddle, they eschew the main roads, opting for the circuitous route to Hatake manor. By the time they cross the boundary where the cottages end, and the grasslands begin, the arrest warrant and invitation are burning holes in his pocket. Veering off the path, he pats himself down for something of great import.

_Do or die time, and wouldn't you just know it?_

_Tonight, of all nights, I left home without my flask._

**Recherché**

With each man considering what lay ahead, the interior of the coach was enveloped in awkward silence for most of the journey. Slumped against the window's ledge, Kotetsu stares out into the darkness, his thumb worrying at a neatly trimmed goatee; at the opposite end of the bench, Izumo sits hunched forward, forearms braced against his thighs, his thumbs twiddling. Iruka occupies the long bench across from them; pressed tightly against the plush backrest, his eyes are closed and his breathing even.

Not wanting to disturb, yet needing to inform, Izumo loudly clears his throat and says, "Iruka? I know you have a few things on your mind right now … but I'm afraid I need to add another."

A weary sigh accompanies the opening of his eyes. "Took you long enough ... go on, you think Sai is off his rocker too, don't you?"

"Course not. The kid's a gifted artist, they're supposed to be a little … different." Straightening all the better to look Iruka in the eyes, he quietly adds, "If only he were the problem." One more deep breath and the words rush out,

"It's me, Iruka … crossed a line I shouldn't have."

"Sounds serious, but trouble not," he said as his eyes slipped closed. "Whatever you've done, I'm sure it's fixable."

"Really, can you unring a bell?"

"Dagnabit," Kotetsu whines, "you're as bad as that Coroner! Say what ya hafta say or shut up, damn!"

The withering "don't rush me" look shot to his left was met with irritated silence. Sustained silence, nonetheless. Slowly he turns to face his bewildered cousin. "The thing is … I felt compelled to seek advice from Lady Tsunade; we ended up in a place I never intended-"

"Well, that explains why you were so long returning this afternoon," Iruka answered with a smirk, "but I know how it goes. Once you get her wound up, she'll go on and on."

"Yes, but _when_ I saw her isn't relevant to the story … it's what I did while I was with her that-"

"Sheesh!" Kotetsu pipes up again, "Never woulda pegged her as your type. I mean … she's old-"

"I did nothing untoward so kindly drag your mind from the gutter. Look, Iruka, I went to see her because I was concerned. Told her about the nightmares and visions you were having-"

"Okay, not sure why that would be any of her business Zumo, but you needn't be on edge. I'm not angry-"

"Not yet. Here's the thing, Lady Tsunade isn't just a government official, she's a practitioner of Kampo. I had hope she'd be able to help you ... that's all."

At the mention of the ancient therapy, Iruka opens his eyes. "And there we have it," he sneered, "you think _I'm_ the crazy one."

"No, Iruka, I thought you were under stress, not crazy. Bothered me to see you in pain so, I went behind your back and spoke out of turn. Betrayed your trust ... I'm sorry."

Iruka leans forward with a gentle smile to slap Izumo on the wrist. "There ... you've been punished. Zumo, because your heart was in the right place and I'm big enough to forgive your well intentioned blabbermouthery, think no more of it. Hell," he chuckled, "I might have done the same thing if the situation were reversed."

"Whew! That's a load off. Then you won't mind letting her do an evaluation?"

"How's that now?"

"You think me inconsiderate, huh? What the hell are we supposed to do after they lock him up in the nuthouse Zumo?"

"Mind your beeswax," Iruka cautioned, "nobody's getting locked up-"

"I'm not so sure about that," Izumo said, his gaze shifting to the friend on his left. "I think one of us might … especially if Hatake has someone checking the guests for weapons, eh, Tetsu?"

"How did this suddenly turn on me? What makes you think I got weapons?"

"Might have something to do with the clanking noises I heard when you stepped into the carriage. Right then, hand 'em over. Don't make me pat you down."

"Like to see ya try and anyways, how am I supposed to protect myself, huh?"

"Protection is the job of the amulets," Izumo said as he turned in his seat and held out his hand.

"This is one of those times where I really don't like you Zumo."

"I'm heartbroken … now give."

Mumbling curses under his breath, Kotetsu dug deep inside his pockets and sulkily brought out one dagger, two kakute and two sets of knuckledusters. "You're both jackasses. Here, take 'em, and don't come crying to me if you get yourselves killed."

"Honestly, we've been invited to an upper crust, fancy dress gala, not a barroom brawl-"

"Where'd you get those things," Iruka wondered aloud, "and how long have you been hiding them from us?"

"Oh yeah, like we know all your secrets, Ruka. Leave me alone!"

"Enough! Tetsu, stop pouting and listen. I'm gonna put these right here in the compartment under the seat. If you behave yourself tonight, you might get them back when we get home."

"Who are you, my father? Alrighty then, if we're gonna play that game, I demand that you empty _your_ pockets, Zumo."

Naturally, the bickering escalated and show and tell progressed to extremes after that.

While inching unnoticed toward the opposite window _,_ Iruka thought,

_If I agree with Tetsu's logic, Zumo will be offended but, if I look exasperated with their antics, neither of them will suspect anything. I'll take that chance. Last thing I wanna do now is explain why I've got an amulet stitched to the inside of my breast pocket and Father's dagger tucked inside my waistband._

Notes:

Mountebank: a person who deceives others, especially to trick them out of money.

Sinuous: of a serpentine or wavy form; marked by strong lithe movements.

Infarct: a small localized area of dead tissue which results from a lack of blood supply.

Partake: receive or have a share or portion.

Kakute: basically, rings with spikes. Usually worn with the spikes hidden in the palm as the kakute's main advantage lay in its grip. One ring would be worn on the middle finger while a second ring might be placed in the thumb. Gaining a firm grip on an opponent was the primary purpose of these weapons.


	35. Ring O' Ring of Roses, Pocketful of Posies

**Recherché**

Makibishi Bosky … was Konoha’s first line of defense from days of old.

This densely populated, five miles long area of evergreens had alternately served as a base for the monks guarding the Daimyo, the locus of control for samurai and an immigration checkpoint.  The mounted patrol took over the Daimyo’s residence years ago, maintaining it as a station house and temporary holding center. Nowadays, it is but a mile marker and point of interest for travelers.

Historical records provide this was an area birthed of necessity. Three large families, the Senju, Hyuga and Nara, reportedly ringed their properties with saplings to keep them safe from the land grabbing Uchiha clan.  Legend claims the trees in this area sprung up to their current height in one night because of the monk’s continuous prayers and a spell cast by the Hyuga. The then Governor of the territory, Senju Hisao, ordered a horticultural excavation to lay to rest these fables which were stifling trade with nations to the north.  It concluded the bones of a thousand samurai warriors fertilized and nourished this, the richest soil in Konoha. 

But that discovery only gave strength to the folklore, leading many to believe the trees were possessed of sentiency.

Even to this day, citizens credit these woods with the ability to judge the thoughts and intents of all who enter. If a heart is filled with good, a traveler can make it to the other side unscathed, but if evil, the woods would rain down pine needles of iron upon them.

Nary a man in the entourage would ever admit they accepted as true these superstitions, nonetheless, every one of them offered up silent thanks to the gods for safe passage. And as they gathered around the carriage, Fugaku stood on the running board for another ritual instituted by his wife; the selection of a volunteer to precede the caravan and announce the lord of the manor’s imminent return. It started as a private joke between the lord and lady Uchiha with Fugaku questioning whether the advance warning was sufficient for potential suitors to scale down the manor walls.

“Just barely,” Mikoto always said.

 Smiling at the memory as a volunteer stepped forward, Fugaku points to the lucky young man saying, “Make haste! Inform Lady Uchiha beware, for the master approaches.  And as the one designated to carry the power of my name, you will order the cooks to bring forth choice foods and wine, for tonight … we celebrate!”

This was always met with cheers and loud whoops as the rider took off at high speed toward the compound.

Under the light of a moon inordinately huge and bright, his men brimmed with jubilation as the caravan begins rolling toward home and hearth.

It took less than fifty minutes before the messenger returned breathless.

On heavy night air floated the noise of angry voices; above the squeal of carriage brakes, Fugaku pokes his head out the window:

“What goes on out there?”

“Trouble not, my lord … the runner stands before us moonstruck.

His message could wait no longer, and the wiry young man slipped free of those intending to keep him captive. “My lord,” he shouted, “the manor lies in darkness! Nary a soul stirs--"

“What hell possesses you to lie to--?”

“It is no falsehood,” he said, turning to face the man who bopped him in the head. “I know what I saw!”

As the crowd of men press in on him, one voice rang out above the clamor.  “This lad is a fantast with a timid constitution. I pray you my lord, grant him none humour for he speaks as one mad.”

Their master lifted his hand and quelled the crowd, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Nay my lord,” roared the captain of the guard as he worked his way through the crowd. “Permit me send another, one who can tell his left from right.”

Ignoring their words, Fugaku crooked his fingers to the runner. “Stand aside men, do nothing to prevent his approach.”

With a grimace and stifled curse, the young man rubbed at the back of his head as he’s shoved toward the carriage.  “My lord, I speak the truth.  As I stood on the road, I could feel the darkness--”

“Hmm … feel darkness, can you? Tell me plain, have we been away so long you've forgotten where you live?  Or is it possible you looked upon the wrong house?”

"Mayhaps” was the reluctant whisper, “afeared I was, my lord.”

His answer was met with another gale of sighs, hisses and booing.  Again, Fugaku raised his hand to quiet them.  “And as you stood on the roadside, did it occur to you my family might be awaiting arrival of these champions, _inside_ the stables?"

“No, my lord, it did not.”

“I see.  And are you now finding strength within to prove wrong your accusers?”

“I … I believe so, sir.”

 “Herein stands opportunity for correction.  I adjure you, return with a squad of four and after a thorough search of the grounds, I believe you will see it is as I've said."

The young man bowed low, stammering out a higgledy-piggledy fusion of apology and gratitude.

And after the five men head out, the captain of the guard draws near. “For the abundance of mercy shown, I thank you my lord.”

"Tis nothing.  We do well to hold tight anger, for he is but a child. If we leave him redeem himself, something like this shan't happen again," Fugaku said as he settled back inside the carriage.

“It was his first journey outside the territory after all, and most manor homes _do_ appear similar from the roadside.  I bow before wise counsel. With your permission, my lord we shall journey onward.”

As the carriage lurched forward, Fugaku thought _, Wise counsel?_

  _Or have I reached new heights of hypocrisy?_

**Recherché**

Ryota stands a few yards away, watching Genma stagger from the constabulary. _That poor bastard … drunker than a skunk; reckon I’d do the same if I were him._ Sadly shaking his head, he walks up the stairs and deposits the certified chits on the night commander’s desk.  “Coroner eh? What’d he want?”

The other man shrugged his shoulders. “Mumbled something about the Inspector ordering him to empty all the bins; he weren't hurting nothin', so I left him to it.”

**Recherché**

At long last, the caravan arrives at the bottom of the hill upon which the manor stands; it is here the horses refuse to go further.  Frustrated riders whip and spur them onward until they reach the driveway’s halfway point.  It started with the horses pulling the carriage; as soon as they reared up, it was as if a switch simultaneously flipped inside the other horse’s brains.  Spooked, every horse bucks off its rider and in a frenzy, they begin backing away from the manor.  

“Fetch torches from the stoop,” shouts the captain, “and for those unharmed, bring your mounts under control at once!”

From the carriage window Fugaku bellows, “The gates will hold the rest … calm my champions and get them to the stable immediately!”

No sooner than the three men run toward the house, the light of the moon is obscured by clouds.  They’re almost at the terminus of the driveway when confronted by strange indentations in the thick grasses.  As they turn aside, the veil of clouds parts from the moon, it’s yellow light revealing the crumpled body of the runner; the other four men lay nearby, each one with his throat severed to a point just shy of decapitation.

And the death toll now stands at ten.

**Recherché**

_Here's to me … a flippin' geniush!_    The shot glass slams to the table as Genma reckons he’s had enough.  _Oughta lock the door, nah … skip it,_ he thinks before turning about to happily stumble toward the rear of the building.

_Aint nobody gonna break in and sure as hell … aint nobody gonna break out._

  **Recherché**

The sound of retching fills the air as bouncing torchlight wends toward the stalled coach.

 “My lord …advance party … a fate dreadful. Slaughtered before the entrance way; the door to the manor stands ajar …”

Fugaku can’t wait for a servant’s assistance, instead he flings open the carriage door from the inside and hits the ground at a dead run, his men struggling to keep up with him.  Speeding up the gravel drive, his mind’s eye takes him back to the young men he shamed in Water Country.

_Impossible, even with the stopover, they could not have prevented us.  And I will not believe the Tanaguchi were part of a ruse to waylay us._

With each body he sees by the entrance, fear tears at his innards. _Mikoto!_

Bounding up the steps and through the open door, he’s confronted with floors wet and glistening; the torchlight from the men coming behind reveal walls splattered with blood and bodies strewn about like broken dolls.

_Oh my god, Mikoto … where are you?_

Six other men now join the party crowded into the foyer.  Slowly they walk deeper inside to stand near the bottom of the grand staircase.

“Search the upstairs for signs of life” Fugaku whispers, “neglect not the lower levels.” 

 “My lord, light shines under the door of your study.  Right, four of you will take mounts from the stables and compel local doctors to come posthaste,” the captain orders.  “You two, notify the constables … and the Coroner.”

“The rest of you,” Fugaku mumbles, “fetch Inuzuka Tsume to tend the horses.”  He turns, meaning to run down the hall toward the only source of light when the captain of the guard grabs him by the arm.

“We will not leave you on your own, my lord.”

Clasping the hand which holds him, lord Uchiha said, “Station archers near every exit if you must, but return to your injured men outside, captain.”  Heedless of danger, Fugaku takes off running; midway to his destination, he stops to look back at the stunned men.  “Go I said!” 

**Recherché**

Music rolls down grassy slopes and bounds over tall trees as the carriage bearing Iruka, Kotetsu and Izumo bumps along the hillside.  They crowd the windows to see a mile-long pathway alight with torches and Hatake manor itself ringed with even brighter lights.

“Well, would you look at that?  Impressive,” Izumo says with a low whistle.

“Eh,” Kotetsu shrugs, “I’ve seen bigger.”

**Recherché**

Jiraiya turns the corner by the stables as a horde of hungry gaki descend on Uchiha manor. “Remember, only those marked with my seal are yours.  Touch none other, especially the horses.  There are two more at Kokucho manor and another in the forest, leave no trace behind.”

**Recherché**

As he rockets down the corridor, screams from the interior and exterior of the manor fill his ears, the pungent scent of kerosene burns at his nostrils and eyes; he cares nothing for it. When at last his shoulder connects with the door of the study, Fugaku beholds his beloved, kneeling in the center of the room.  Her head jerks upward as he barges in.  “Come quickly my love, let us quit this place--”

“Please… don’t come any closer!”

“You’re frightened,” he whispers sweetly as he draws near.  “It’s alright … I’m here now … I’ll protect you.” 

“No, please Fugaku … run, I beg you--”

“She asked you to stay put Father, yet you could not--”

He’s rooted to the spot, as Itachi appears from opposite the bookcase.  “Mikoto, Itachi thank the gods… you’re alive!  Come my son, the ones who committed this atrocity may still lurk in the shadows, let us search them out!”   

“No need,” he answers, walking up behind his mother, moonlight shimmering against the blades of his broadswords. “The murderer stands before you.”

“What?”  Fugaku takes another step forward, “what are you saying?”

“All of my siblings, save one, all of the servants and five of your trusted men lay dead, cut down by the same swords you gave me.”

With head bowed and palms covering his ears, Fugaku screamed, “You’re lying! Why are you lying to me?”

“Isn’t that the way of our family, Father?  We lie, steal … kill; whatever it takes to maintain power, it is the legacy of the Uchiha, is it not?”

“What the hell are you saying?”

“Mine eyes have been enlightened …  at last I see truth--”

“Truth?”  He takes a few hesitant steps toward his wife. “What sort truth would lead you to slaughter your family? How could you do something this vile?”

Itachi smiled and said, “Because I now understand who the real monsters in this world are.”

“You aren’t making any sense! What is the meaning of all this?”

“Let me make it plain,” he said as one of the blades settles beneath his mother's throat. “Whether by birth or willing servitude, I’ve killed every last person who bears the name Uchiha, understand?”

“Itachi, how could … why would ... they trusted you, they loved you, how could you--?”

“Simple.  A debt owed, and with your death, Father

   … a debt paid in full.”

Notes:

Igadama or Makibishi: these sharp spiked implements date back to feudal Japan; used to defend samurai battlements and/or thrown into the path of an enemy’s path to slow pursuit.

Bosky:  having abundant trees or shrubs, wooded.

Locus:  a center or source of activities or power.

Sentiency: sense perception not involving intelligence or mental perception.

Fantast: an impractical, impulsive person; a dreamer.

Higgledy-piggledy:  in a disorderly manner.

Adjure: urge or request (someone) solemnly or earnestly to do something.

Horticulture: the science and art of producing, improving, marketing, and using fruits, vegetables, flowers, and ornamental plants. It differs from botany and other plant sciences in that horticulture incorporates both science and aesthetics.

 


	36. Ashes, Ashes ... They All Fall Down

**Recherché**

Nine members of the caravan,

Eight members of the same family,

And the death toll stands at twenty-seven.

From opposite the forest, the dilatory Inspector and Mayonaka make their way over the ridge and down slope toward the manor with Ibiki complaining all the way. “At least those dancers will make this thing bearable.  Can you believe I’m doing this sober?  Pfft ... last time I do somebody a favor. With any luck, Ryota is there already as is … Umino. We just need to plant a few weapons on one of those idiots, make a clean arrest and I’m back at the station house before ten o’clock.”

Meanwhile, Ryota is trying his level best to leave the constabulary.

“I’ve explained this to you five times already.  What’s so difficult about rotating the dock patrols every two hours and filling out the civilian pay sheets before midnight?"

“But what if the drunk tank fills up before then?”

“Oh, for god sake!  The patrolmen know to escort ‘em to one of the inns to let ‘em sleep it off in the lobby.  Damn, look at the time!  Ibiki’s gonna kill me if I don’t leave soon.”

“Sorry, I usually get one of the other night clerks do paperwork like this, but since they’re all out on patrol--”

“Explains at lot.  Alright,” he sighed, “one more time…”

**Recherché**

Izumo reached out, tapping at Iruka’s knee.  “No second thoughts, no cold feet?”

“Quite the opposite … being quite unsuccessful at reining in all the hatred I feel toward that man.”

“That's it Ruka!  Not that I'd mind watching ya go all out psycho killer on Hatake--”

“Tetsu, shut up! Iruka, get a grip on yourself.  We stick to the plan, you hear me? Sai handles the hard stuff, we observe and strategize ... nothing more!”

“We’ve been in this line forever.  How much longer?”

“Wouldn’t expect a roughneck like you to understand,” Izumo mumbled under his breath.  “As I said fifteen minutes ago, Tetsu, every guest must needs be escorted from their carriages and then someone must announce them before they can enter, it’s what’s done at these things.”

“It’s stupid, might as well just get out and walk--”

“If you so much as move a muscle, so help me, I’ll beat the tar outta ya.”   

**Recherché**

“Suté, a child forsaken,” Itachi calmly explains, “she will become a bridesmaid, an eternal slave of Hatake; fitting, don’t you think Father?”

“You’d sacrifice a child of mine to those … creatures?”

“She was treated as less than nothing because your first wife couldn’t produce sons; now that she's valued by someone you despise suddenly, you care?”

“I fed and clothed her, sent her to school so she could learn something useful--”

“You did no more than the law requires! The only reason you sent her far away was so that she wouldn’t remind you of the betrayal--”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t I? Suté was a product of infidelity; every day her presence a reminder of your shame--!”

“Shut up damn you!"

“Not this time Father.”  In the blink of an eye was Itachi upon him, the tip of his blade poking at the center of his father's chest.  “You will kneel before me and listen well.”

“Bow before a thankless child and a murderer?  I think not!”

“Fugaku, if you truly love me, then please … do as he says.”

Both men turned at the sound of her voice; a distraught wife, a bereaved mother, one who loved them with every fiber of her being. Itachi slowly backed away, the broadsword held limply at his side; Fugaku, his eyes welling with tears, yet he would not bow down.

“I am the fruit of your loins Father, and the product of my ancestors.” he said stepping back so that he was in line with where Mikoto knelt.  “Thieves, liars, swindlers and bigots, these comprise our family tree; ah, but money covers a multitude of sins.  From the time we were old enough to understand words, you force fed us your hatred, souring our minds against the Hatake, when in fact, they were the true source of our wealth and prestige.”

“Why you ungrateful--”

Fugaku breaks into a jog toward Itachi, stopping cold when the backhanded blade his son holds, is once more pressed against Mikoto’s throat.  Her frightened eyes and sharp intake of breath gives him pause and with heavy heart, he slumps to his knees.  “Do as you will with me,” he hisses, “only spare the life of your mother.”

“You love her … and would agree to almost anything to protect her, correct?” 

“What would you know of love? Your younger brother Sasuke, your sisters … all of them looked up to and loved you and how did you repay them?”

 “I did what was necessary to keep them from falling prey to the curse of this family. And that Father, _is_ love.” 

“Itachi … you’re clearly insane, but I can protect you from prosecution … I can ship you off to another country, get you the treatment you need from the world’s best doctors--”

 “Enough! You will sit there quietly while I tell the story of our family's treachery and of a love true.”

**Recherché**

Genma wakes with a start to find a patrolman standing over his bed with a lantern.

“Is it morning already?”

“Get up ya drunken fool … I got two stiffs in a coach outside.  Come and get ‘em.”

**Recherché**

Fugaku kept his eyes on Itachi as he inched closer to Mikoto.

“Twin brothers," he said, "Enoki and Botan Hatake owned over three hundred silver mines and seventy smelting plants which the Uchiha, coveted.  The head of our clan, Uchiha Noboru, set in motion a plot to divide and conquer the brothers, by enticing one into marriage. Knowing Enoki was already smitten, he promised his daughter, Miyako's hand in exchange for his portion of the mines and plants. It was couched as a move which unite two of the strongest families in the land, making both clans richer.  Alas, it did not end well for either family."  Walking behind his mother's back he said, "When their engagement was announced, Botan was in the Land of Wind, inspecting one of their plants. Learning of the wedding upon his return, he was vehemently opposed, because he knew the Uchiha couldn’t be trusted.” 

“That was almost two hundred years ago, Itachi … it was business--”

“Was it, Father … or was it murder?”

“The Hatake got exactly what they deserved.  They aren’t human, Itachi … but monsters from the darkest corners of hell!”

“All the more reason we never should have crossed demons in human skins, for long are their memories and deep run their grudges.”

“Given the means and opportunity, I’d send the last of that cursed line back to the hell from whence he came!”

“Ah yes, the means." Leaning down, he laid the blades flat against Mikoto's chest. "Not that this will matter much to you in the long run Father, but I helped Suté destroy the remaining amulets we had stored in the vaults."  Flipping the swords upward that their blunt lines lay on his shoulders, he said, " You seemed shocked Mother.  Were you unaware that every noble family in Konoha possessed talismans to ward off evil?”

“No dear,” she said, “I knew that, but in this day and age, they are no more than pretty baubles. These forces of evil you speak of, no longer exist.”

“Oh but they do, and as long as a Hatake walks upon this earth, he  _will_ spawn more of his kind.  The threat of evil not only exists, Mother but it will spread through this land like a plague.  Thank the gods, you won't be here to witness it.  Now then," he said bringing the blades to his sides, " did you know, the Uchiha used the power of those talismans to weaken the Hatake brothers so that they would sign over the entirety of their enterprises to us? That is correct, isn’t it Father?”

“Touch not my wife," he snarled.  "I make no apologies for the actions of our ancestors.  We’ve always known what the Hatake were ... and I’m damn proud they used those things for our advantage!”

 “And what an advantage it was. Once the brothers were free of the talisman’s power,” Itachi picked up the story, “the engagement was summarily nullified.  Enoki railed against us, breathing out threats to wipe us from the face of the earth.  But as they do so well, the Uchiha lawyers rushed this matter before the courts to enforce the signed contract, by alleging renegation on the Hatake’s part. You see Mother, not everyone knew the truth of the Hatake's origins, and because the presiding magistrate’s pockets were being lined with Uchiha gold, he sided with the family.  Funny isn't it? Over two hundred years have passed and Enoki's will finds fulfillment in the hands of a Uchiha."

 “I never heard any of these stories before,” Mikoto said, “are you sure what you say is fact and not folklore?”

“You need only look upon the face of your husband, do not his tight jaw and narrowed eyes verify that I speak the truth?”

“For the last time boy, it was business--”

“Yes, but after the case was won and their fortunes became ours, Miyako was found with child … Enoki’s child.  Noboru could not abide the thought of our pure blood being mingled with that of a demon, so he sent for the strongest shamans in the land.  With spells and potions did they attempt to abort the seed inside her; when that didn’t work, Noburo quickly espoused her to another.  They went so far as to sew amulets inside her clothing, hoping to keep an enraged Enoki at bay until she was wed.”

“It worked too,” Fugaku spat, “kept him from turning her into an undead creature like unto himself, a fate you’ve gleefully assigned your sister.”

“But,” Itachi continued, “because Miyako couldn’t be with the man she loved, she killed herself and that’s when the fount of hell broke open. Having mesmerized Noboru’s personal servants, Enoki had him delivered into the forests where two wolves, also under Hatake’s control tore him limb from limb.  That night, our family cried out to the constables, demanding the Hatake brothers be arrested for murder.  The entire clan testified that they saw the brothers drag him from this house; accusing them of witchcraft as well, our family armed the constables with their own amulets that the brothers could be taken into custody.”

 “That’s right,” said Fugaku, “in those days murder was swiftly punished ... an eye for an eye.  When the constables discovered Noboru's torn remains not far from Uchiha manor, the Hatake were sentenced to death; drawn and quartered in the town square that very night as horrified townsfolk looked on.”

“And now, Father the time has come, the debt being called forward. In just a few moments, I will be the last male Uchiha in Konoha.”

Fugaku lifted his head to his wife, “If that be so, then let the last thing I behold be the face of your mother.  One last kiss, my dearest, for I loved you with all my heart.”

“And I you,” she answered.

Itachi permits it, watching his father crawl to his mother's side.  Looking into Mikoto's eyes, Fugaku gives her courage unspoken.  They fall into a clutch, one body desperately melting into the other.  Their lips meet for the final time, and with one swing of the broadsword as they embrace, two bodies slump to the floor.  Itachi looked on impassively as shooting fountains of blood slow to a trickle.  And as he walks toward the door of the study, his body convulses; wracked with tears, he whispers,

“It is done, my lord.”

  **Recherché**

Seconds draw down as they wait inside the upper bedchamber.  Maito and Kinoe standing near the hearth, several of the Yasha taking up their positions on either side of the massive bed. A rush of gray brume precedes him, the warm scents of sandalwood, ylang ylang and Clary sage swirl about before pushing into the room when the door to the bathing chamber opens; dressed in a robe and slippers of royal blue, lord Hatake stands, his silver hair a tousled mess as the towel is pushed back, falling to its rest on sinewy shoulders.

“How handsome you are, my lord,” Kinoe gushes.

The master doesn’t break his stride, flinging the towel in the servant’s face as walks past to pull Maito close.  “It is done, the last Uchiha walks to his fate. Once Umino arrives, you will keep him in your sights at all times.” You will also make certain Hagane and Kamizuki are lavished with attention, understood?.”

“As you wish, master.”

He walks to the center of the room allowing the robe to slip and pool around his feet.  “Come my beauties,” he beckons to the Yasha; they flock to him as moths to a flame, running their hands over his naked body, writhing and pressing their bodies to his.  In a puff of black smoke … they vanish.

“Kinoe, are your people ready?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then shall you return to your duties downstairs. Maito will dress me tonight.”

“Oh … yes, of course.” Disconsolate, Kinoe trudges to the other side of the room; turning about, he watches Maito stroll to and from the bed.

 “Now then,” says the master as Maito slides the silken underwear past his ankles, “Jiraiya, have you seen him of late?”

Maito looks up with a grin as the bed chamber’s door slams closed.  “No master, he answers, “but I sensed his presence in the woods earlier. I'm sure he will join us later.”

“That means his assignment in the east has concluded.  Is everything is prepared for her arrival?”

“Yes, master.” 

“Excellent, then let us proceed for my guests are waiting.”

**Recherché**

And the death toll stands at twenty-nine.

  Notes:

Noboru: “ascend or climb.”

Miyako: “beautiful night child.”

Renegation (British): the act of disowning, denying or renouncing.


End file.
